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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29979171">ma bête noire</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/kousenjuu/pseuds/kousenjuu'>kousenjuu</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>the last ace in a lost hand [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!, Persona 5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(Persona 5), Angst, Bad Ending, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, Gen, Haikyuu in P5, Mentions of Rape, Mentions of Suicide, Murder, Revenge fic, SakuAtsu Angst Week 2021, Swearing, but like...with feelings, it’s angst week but soujirou is still the best dad ever, it’s p5 you should know this, just a tiny one though, p5 spoilers, straight up murder</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 17:07:56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>19,377</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29979171</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/kousenjuu/pseuds/kousenjuu</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Kiyoomi strode forward and turned the gun onto the Phantom Thieves’ precious leader; onto Joker, the masked thief who grinned and whooped as he cut down shadow after shadow in the Metaverse; onto the second-year high school boy, beaten and bruised, sitting in front of him. </p><p>Miya Atsumu glared up at him, every bit as daunting as usual. “Ya don’t have the guts,” he said, signature smirk alive and blazing on his lips.</p><p>How cute.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>(by proxy), Akechi Goro &amp; Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro &amp; Persona 5 Protagonist, Akechi Goro and Kurusu Akira, Miya Atsumu &amp; Sakusa Kiyoomi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>the last ace in a lost hand [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2205093</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>SakuAtsuAngstWeek</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>ma bête noire</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>bête noire = a person or thing that one despises the most</p><p>  <em> My greatest enemy, the one I hate more than anything; it's you. My bête noire.</em></p><p>some notes: you don't need to know what specific skills/spells do. while they detail each of the characters' roles, for those of you who know nothing of the Shin Megami Tensei (Persona) universe, don't worry about it. these details don't matter much, and as such, i've strayed away from any actual gameplay strategies because this is my fic and if i never wanna have my characters buff themselves/debuff their enemies, i can. long live flashiness and dramatics. also watch me do real party dynamics and then don't. because i CAN.</p><p>a biiiiigggg thank you to everyone who cheered me on or expressed interest in this story... you know who you are. i love you so fucking much. you have no idea how motivating it is to write knowing there's people who want to read my ridiculous headcanons.</p><p>sakura soujirou has my whole heart and he's a bamf and you can't convince me otherwise. this one's for you, coffee and curry dad. you're the fucking best.</p><p>oh and i drew a thing for this?? because i have no self control over my hyperfixations? find it on my twitter <a href="https://twitter.com/reeeeiiiiigun/status/1373083213342633990?s=20">here</a></p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Whatー What are you doing down here? Do you know what I had to go through, how hard I had to fight, to get access to interrogate the prisoner?!” </p><p>Sayuri was annoyed, but Kiyoomi shrugged it off with a polite smile. She was an idiot, and he had become quite the professional at dealing with idiots.</p><p>“Why are you here?” she repeated, tucking a strand of her white-gray hair behind an ear. It fell right back into its previous place. </p><p>Kiyoomi held his smile quietly and said, “Well, the head of this investigation ought to have a few minutes with the prisoner, don’t you think, Sayuri-san?”</p><p>The prosecutor narrowed her eyes, “<em>You’re </em> the one they appointed to this case?”</p><p>He shrugged and made a show of brushing a dark curl out of his eyes. “Did they not tell you who your replacement was?”</p><p>Sayuri was silent. She chewed the edge of her lip and examined Kiyoomi with her sharp, yellow eyes. </p><p>Kiyoomi inwardly smirked, waited just a beat longer, and then said, “I’m only joking. I’m merely here to assist with the public security investigation.”</p><p>“Oh,” she huffed humorously before stopping with a no less than accusatory frown, “If I remember correctly, didn’t you say there was another culprit aside from the Phantom Thieves?”</p><p>“That was but a lie I spread to set them up. It worked wonders in helping me get on their side. As the saying goes, you must first fool your allies if you are to fool your enemies.” Kiyoomi let a little remorse show on his face, “I apologize for deceiving you, Sayuri-san, but it was necessary.”</p><p>“Don’t worry about it, I understand,” she replied and then lowered her voice, switching topics. “...I got him to talk about his teammates.”</p><p>“Is that so?” Kiyoomi marveled quietly, dark eyes unable to hide his slight surprise, “I suppose I’ll have to find some sort of evidence myself, then. Can’t have you showing me up.”</p><p>“Good luck.” Sayuri nodded to him and continued on her way.</p><p>Once she was out of sight, he rolled his eyes with a twisted smirk, “Stupid woman.”</p><p>He’d gone without his usual medical mask tonight, wanting to seem as charming and innocent as possible (and perhaps wanting Miya Atsumu to <em> know</em>, to be able to read his expressions for the first and last time), and it was only a little discomforting. Kiyoomi was far too excited to care much about germs anyway. He was about to taste sweet, sweet victory.</p><p>Kiyoomi came to a stop outside the door to the interrogation room.</p><p>“Excuse me, I have a few things I would like to discuss with the prisoner,” he told the guard. <em> Just the one. Just as planned. </em></p><p>“Yes sir,” the guard moved to open the door.</p><p>“Could you…” Kiyoomi stopped him, hesitating just the right amount, letting a flicker of fear flash across his onyx eyes. “Could you come in with me? I’m not sure I feel safe talking to such a dangerous criminal by myself.”</p><p>The guard considered his request for a second before he nodded and opened the door, stepping inside the interrogation room.</p><p>Poor sucker.</p><p>Kiyoomi followed the guard in, closing the door behind him, and threw a smile at Miya Atsumu sitting at the small table in the middle of the room. He tugged on the edge of one of his gloves, but that habitual motion was only a small tell, not many would even notice it.</p><p>Kiyoomi stepped up behind him and, in one swift motion, pulled the guard’s gun out of his holster, much to his surprise. The detective made a show of twisting a silencer onto it, ignoring the guard’s shouts, madness pulling at the edges of his charming smile, before aiming and pulling the trigger with a quiet <em> pshoo</em>. The guard fell to the floor with a startled yelp.</p><p>“I owe this all to you, so… Thanks.” Kiyoomi murmured. “You and your friends were vital to our plan. And now it will finally be complete.”</p><p>He looked to Atsumu, “Your popularity truly was quite stunning. It made using you all the more worthwhile. I thought I might have had to be more cautious of you, Miya Atsumu, but it turns out you’re just as predictable as the rest of them.”</p><p>With a lazy glance at the guard now dead at his feet, Kiyoomi asked, face perversely unimpressed and bored, “Do you get it now?”</p><p>Kiyoomi strode forward and turned the gun onto the Phantom Thieves’ precious leader; onto Joker, the masked thief who grinned and whooped as he cut down shadow after shadow in the Metaverse; onto the second-year high school boy, beaten and bruised, sitting in front of him. </p><p>Miya Atsumu glared up at him, every bit as daunting as usual. “Ya don’t have the guts,” he said, signature smirk alive and blazing on his lips.</p><p>How cute.</p><p>“Oh? What makes you think that, Miya?” Kiyoomi cocked the gun. “I didn’t seem to have a problem killing that guard; why could I not do the same to you, with just as much ease?”</p><p>“Ya wouldn’t dare, Omi-kun. Ya’d miss me too much. Who else’d ya beat in billiards and chess? No one would spare ya the time ‘a day.” The blonde continued to stare up at him, grinning like the devil, but made no move to talk again. </p><p>With a steady hand, Kiyoomi trained the barrel between those two chocolate eyes. He indulged himself in one more moment of silence, his own smirk turning wicked as he looked down at his foe. </p><p>“Sorry but, case closed, Atsumu… This is how your shitty justice ends.”</p><p><em> Pshoo</em>. </p><p>Miya Atsumu’s face fell forward onto the table with a heavy splat. </p><p>Kiyoomi staged the gun in Atsumu’s hand, tucked the silencer into his pocket, and left the room with a satisfied smile. He stopped just in front of the elevator to tap out a call on his phone.</p><p>“Otou-sama. My job is complete.”</p><p>“I told you not to call me that,” came an annoyed sigh from the other end of the line. “Regardless, all that’s left now is to deal with the remnants.”</p><p>“Of course. But wouldn’t it be better to let things blow over, let the rest of them cower in fear for a bit, and then pick them off one by one without drawing anyone’s attention? We can make them look like accidents.” Kiyoomi smirked, “It’ll be an apt punishment, waiting for death like the cowards they are, for daring to interfere with our plans. As much as I’d love to take them out all at once, wouldn’t this be more fitting?”</p><p>“They wouldn’t try to retaliate?”<br/><br/>“Of course not. Without their leader, they’ve no backbone,” Kiyoomi chuckled darkly. “I’ll keep an eye on them, but I don’t expect much. Besides, I’ll need to prepare my statement for when the news gets out about the suicide.”</p><p>“As will I. And what of the SIU director?”<br/><br/>Kiyoomi scoffed, rolling his eyes at no one, having already expected this question. “It would be a shame if he fell victim to some mysterious illness, wouldn’t it?” he deadpanned.</p><p>The call ended after that, and Kiyoomi pocketed his phone, pressed the elevator call button, and slipped a medical mask out of his pocket and over his face. Only then, did he allow his restraint to fall and he hunched over, shoulders shaking.</p><p>The dark-haired boy threw his head back and laughed, all manic and wild. </p><p>How stunning. <em> Absolutely exquisite </em> was Miya Atsumu’s face when Kiyoomi pulled the trigger! The way those fearless eyes snapped into disbelief the millisecond before he was condemned to his death? Kiyoomi couldn’t get enough. He hoped the image would be emblazoned into his mind for years to come, a moment of triumph to savor forever.</p><p>They were all so <em> stupid. </em> Miya, the Phantom Thieves, his laughable excuse for a father. They thought they had any grasp on him, any control, any <em> semblance </em>of an idea who he was and what he was really after. It was hilarious. They were all so easy to read. So easy to fool. </p><p>Oh, how the mighty fall! </p><p>He was so close now. So close to his revenge. So close to <em> winning. </em> </p><p>By the time the tell-tale chime of the elevator echoed off the solid concrete basement walls, Kiyoomi had composed himself, dusting imaginary particles off his school blazer and rolling his shoulders back. Face now smooth and expressionless, he entered the elevator and pressed the ground floor button. Kiyoomi retrieved his attaché case from his desk and headed home with just the slightest bounce in his step.</p><p>All those years— all those years of looks of distaste, fake smiles and bogus familial relationships, dirty job after dirty job… All those years of suffering, for <em> this</em>. </p><p>Killing Miya Atsumu was just a <em> taste; </em> it was just the beginning, but Kiyoomi relished it nonetheless.</p><p>Now, all that was left was to wait it out. They’d air the news that the leader of the Phantom Thieves had committed suicide later tonight. Kiyoomi’s dark eyes glinted greedily at the thought of watching the rest of the Thieves’ reactions—yet another delicious moment he was rather excited for. After that, he just had to bide his time. </p><hr/><p>The dark alley shrouded him in shadows as he leaned against the wall just outside of the door to the cafe. They weren’t even trying to be quiet. </p><p>“S-Sayuri-san hasn’t said a th-thing!” repeated Yachi with a strangled yelp. Loud commotion followed the girl’s announcement, and then another voice carried over the din, crystal clear to Kiyoomi, as he stood outside.</p><p>“But- what about the plan? Did Tsumu-san not—”</p><p>“Shut up, Chibi-chan. Yachi, go on.”</p><p>“She still has Atsumu-kun’s phone, but I’ve pinged it twice and nothing,” Yachi continued.</p><p>“Does that mean we failed?” came a quiet, low voice. Ushijima was calm and steady as he asked the question everyone had on their minds. Kiyoomi decided this was an entrance as good as any.</p><p>“Yes, you failed. Miya Atsumu is dead.” Kiyoomi pulled Leblanc’s door open, standing just inside the entrance, his face practicedly blank except for the small smirk hidden behind his face mask.</p><p>The rest of the Phantom Thieves startled. Most of them jumped to their feet; Hinata fell off his barstool, Osamu hissed, baring his teeth. Kiyoomi belatedly noticed the master of the place, Sakura Souichirou, was out. <em> Good</em>.</p><p>“Sakusa-san?” asked Suna.</p><p>“What are you doin’ here, Sakusa?” Bokuto strode towards him, broad shoulders squared and yellow eyes sharp. It was almost frightening how the delinquent resembled his sister sometimes. That is, if Kiyoomi were the type to be put off by a blunt attitude and a menacing glare. But he wasn’t. The Bokuto siblings only really served to entertain him with their simple-mindedness. </p><p>“Have none of you checked the news?” He asked, ignoring them, holding his phone up innocently. </p><p>Yachi gasped, then, pulling Bokuto’s attention away from himself, “No!”</p><p>Kuroo spun and leaned over her shoulder, eyes reading her laptop screen fast, and frowned deeply. The raven-haired boy then stalked over to Kiyoomi, fisted a hand in his shirt, and <em> pulled</em>.</p><p>“You’re the one who let the police into Sayuri-san’s Palace, aren’t you?” Kuroo demanded, centimeters from his face.</p><p>Kiyoomi met the boy’s glare, shoving him off, “Get your disgusting hands off me. I didn’t do anything.” He was still keeping up the nice guy act; it was habit at this point. “I was just as surprised as you. After they arrested him, I tried to salvage something, but I wasn’t even allowed to see him. I don’t know what this plan of yours was, but no, it didn’t work. He’s dead. Suicide.”</p><p>“There’s no way. Atsumu wouldn’t kill himself!” Osamu snarled and jumped at Kiyoomi, but the latter swatted the fox away. </p><p>“Well,” Kiyoomi smoothed the front of his shirt down with an annoyed grimace, “whether he did or not has nothing to do with me.” He turned to leave but stopped with a hand on the doorknob.</p><p>“I don’t know who you thought Miya Atsumu was, but people aren’t always who you think they are. Good night.”</p><p>He closed the door just as Yachi started to sob.</p><hr/><p>Kiyoomi took his time getting home that night. </p><p>The rest of the week would be a flurry of paperwork and interviews, studying crammed everywhere in between. Even with his initial statement that they were filming tomorrow morning, Kiyoomi was sure there would be multiple more interviews and tv show sections requesting his input. The whole Detective Prince charade was tiring and he hated catering to the general public, but if it got him what he wanted—and it did—he’d suck it up and do it. Such was his life. </p><p>He was tired, though, and part of him wished he could talk a little more freely about his job. About his life. <em> Ugh</em>, maybe all those late nights and earlier mornings were catching up to him. It wasn’t like Kiyoomi to be so reflective. Maybe he shouldn’t have led with “Miya Atsumu’s dead” and instead, cozied up to the Phantom Thieves for a bit, if only to coax a delicious coffee out of his favorite cafe. Although, Miya tended to make his coffees better than even Sakura-san, somehow—</p><p>Uh. No. That memory was to be shelved, boxed up, and hidden in the very back of his mind where Kiyoomi would never see it again. He was not going to think about a dead man. He was not going to <em> regret </em> a dead man. Kiyoomi clenched his fists and glared over the top of his face mask. The job was done.</p><p>
  <em> Kiyoomi had won. </em>
</p><p>He’d outsmarted the infamous leader of the Phantom Thieves once and for all. </p><p>So he took the long way home, caught the last train back to his apartment, and bought ramen from his favorite stand down the street. It was a quiet night, but Kiyoomi relished it. He may have, once or twice, wished he could brag a little of his accomplishments, like a child searching for praise from its parents, but those thoughts were quickly discarded. Kiyoomi had no need for them. Long ago, he’d decided that he would seize his own happiness, he’d fulfill his own pride; he didn’t need anything but himself.</p><p>Sakusa Kiyoomi turned in early that night, slipping under his plain grey sheets and resolutely clicking his lamp off. He went to bed, exhaustion quickly fogging over his racing thoughts, but just before succumbing fully to the darkness, he saw a face. A snarky smile. A bad bleach job. Blood running down his forehead, brown eyes fading, lips froze open in shock.</p><p>Kiyoomi fell asleep praising himself for sticking things through, for accomplishing so much on his own, and tried to ignore the strange sadness that curled up in a far corner of the empty cavity in his chest where his heart should’ve sat. </p><hr/><p>The rest of the week passed by without much flair. Kiyoomi quietly deleted his chats with the Phantom Thieves, wiping his phone and resetting it to factory settings. He worked menial cases with the police—break-ins, kidnappings that turned out to be runaways, and rounded up a bunch of thugs that likened themselves to a small yakuza gang but came nowhere near the strength of a true Japanese yakuza clan.</p><p>In his free time before the election—which wasn’t that much, he was a busy student-turned-detective-turned-hitman—Kiyoomi began to map out dealing with the rest of the Phantom Thieves. </p><p>Two of them were aiming for pro sports, so Bokuto Koutarou and Hinata Shouyou wouldn’t be all that hard to fake accidents for—a car crash here, a surgery complication there. Suna Rintarou was the heir to a huge corporation, and Kiyoomi knew there were tons of opportunities to satisfy the greedy cravings of the boy’s new enemies. Kuroo Tetsurou was looking to go into police or detective work, himself, so getting rid of him would be easy, needing only a little bit of the professional hitman finesse that Kiyoomi had perfected over the last several years. Kiyoomi couldn’t decide if Yachi Hitoka would be the hardest or the easiest to take care of because of how little she left the house, but supposed an allergic reaction to something she ate while locked in her room could be managed. Ushijima was going to be… difficult, but any normal accident could probably be arranged and it would be believable given how eccentrically the artist lived and worked. </p><p>He submitted those drafts to his father and laid low. Depending on how close paranoia crept to Haruichi as the election neared, Kiyoomi might be forced to kill one or more of the other Thieves sooner rather than later, despite his deflection attempts. Kiyoomi had faith that his father would be too caught up on his power trip to care, but it never hurt to be prepared. No matter how little he cared for them, it wasn’t like Kiyoomi had a personal vendetta against any of them. They weren’t Miya Atsumu; they had just gotten caught in the political crossfire of an adult’s world, dragged along by a self-serving, overconfident 16-year-old. </p><p>Truthfully, Kiyoomi hadn’t wanted to kill any of them, dragging Miya through the mud and serving him a piece of the pie Kiyoomi had choked on for the last 6 years would have been good enough if Miya admitted defeat, if he admitted Kiyoomi was the better one. If Miya had done that, if he hadn’t jumped into their fight in Mementos with such gallant flair and proved, once again, that <em> Kiyoomi </em>was inferior, then the detective would have let them all go and continued about his business.</p><p>But Miya didn’t. He defied Kiyoomi’s expectations—<em>he always did</em>—and it left Kiyoomi with no choice. Teenaged rival or not, Kiyoomi knew it was unwise to attempt to hide someone his father wanted dead. No, it was almost impossible to stay under the radar of Haruichi’s dense web of connections in Tokyo and throughout Japan. So Kiyoomi committed to making sure he kept Haruichi happy and feeling safe until after the election; he committed to disposing of Miya Atsumu, in an effort to avoid any more blood being spilled.</p><p>Only a little bit more and Kiyoomi would be free. </p><p>The days leading up to the election had Kiyoomi almost vibrating in barely-contained excitement. It became even more of a challenge to keep up his quiet and polite public persona. The dark-haired boy was ever glad for the public’s naïveté in accepting the simple story that the Phantom Thieves were, in fact, behind the mental breakdowns and that the leader committed suicide upon capture. </p><p>Kiyoomi kept an eye on the rest of the Thieves, but they simply continued mulling about their normal lives. They had no choice—outright mourning would be akin to admitting their crimes, and at least they weren’t <em> that </em> stupid—though that didn’t stop a certain lonely sadness from blanketing them. </p><p>He had colored their lives gray, and he might have felt bad for it had Kiyoomi been a different person, in another life. But he wasn’t. Sacrifices had to be made for the “greater good” or whatever. It was a lazy excuse for his crimes, but he was far beyond caring. The world had done him dirty first: it dealt him the shittiest hand, threw him into the middle of a Shakespearean tragedy, and left him to the lions. All those challenges had Kiyoomi even more determined to come out on top—it was that sentiment that manifested Loki in the first place, and there was a reason he was Kiyoomi’s strongest Persona. </p><p>If others had to lose so that Haruichi did—so that <em> Kiyoomi </em>could win—so be it. Childish revenge? A fruitless dream? Yes, Kiyoomi agreed, but he didn’t care. People died every day, what was one more? The infamous enigma, the leader of the Phantom Thieves, would be forgotten soon anyway.</p><p>Sakura-san reported to Shujin that his temporary ward had a family emergency and moved back to his hometown—another easy lie that was accepted without question. People were too trusting. But it all ran in Kiyoomi’s favor, so he supposed he couldn’t complain. He had more important things to worry about, anyhow. </p><p>With the Phantom Thieves inactive, he took to Mementos whenever he could to train and raise his skills, pushing deeper and deeper into the depths of Tokyo’s distortions. He needed to be strong enough to beat Haruichi’s shadow if it came down to a fight, and Kiyoomi had a hunch it would. His father was ruthless like that. Even if Kiyoomi was going into Haruichi’s Palace the night he won, he was sure his father’s shadow wouldn’t be celebrating his victory. </p><p>But still, it was the night that would be easiest to slip away. It was the night he’d decided upon long ago. It was the night he’d finally see this plan through.</p><p>It was tonight.</p><p>Haruichi won by a landslide. No one was surprised. </p><p>The family was having a small celebration (small by their standards: only a hundred, give or take, of his father’s closest friends, advisors, and their families), and Kiyoomi sipped his champagne with a small smile that belied his true feelings. He stood in a corner, dressed in his best gray button down and black suit vest and pants, making small talk with his older stepbrother, an esteemed surgeon at only 26 years old. </p><p>Kiyoomi tugged at the edge of one of his black gloves and scanned the room. </p><p>There was his stepmother on the lower landing of the grand staircase, just slightly above everyone else (as she preferred to be), tittering away to some other politicians’ wives over some expensive bracelet that Haruichi bought her for the occasion. </p><p>Kiyoomi found his stepsister with an arm linked around her husband, long dark hair slicked back into a tasteful ponytail. The patented Sakusa Charming Smile was effortlessly painted onto her face as they chatted with some elite court and police officials, though Kiyoomi knew the lawyer would rather be on her fifth glass of red wine, trash-talking her coworkers to her husband than be here, playing her part.</p><p>He excused himself from his stepbrother’s company—the only person Kiyoomi could really stand out of his extended “family”—and smoothly drifted through crowds of some of the highest ranking officials in the nation. </p><p>Events like these were the worst; they were exhausting and fake right down to the tie underneath his collar, color-coordinated to match the rest of the family that was his in name only, as if matching colors could convince onlookers that he belonged here. Unsurprisingly, the public had no problem accepting that another prodigy was born into the Sakusa family, bastard or not. Kiyoomi simply fit here. </p><p>But no longer. Tonight, he would take his inheritance and disappear. </p><p>If said inheritance was the bullet he’d blast through Haruichi’s shadow’s skull, then so be it. Accomplishing his goal meant leagues more than the last name and social status he didn’t ask to be chained down by. </p><p>The man of the hour sat, surrounded by some random young women and his inner circle, on the ugly monstrosity of a couch across from the staircase. Kiyoomi distantly wondered what his stepmother thought of this, but he supposed she must be used to it by now, especially since he was brought into the house years ago. Sakusa Haruichi looked to be more than a few drinks in and was laughing loudly about some mundane accomplishment that he’d achieved (probably one Kiyoomi paved the way for, behind the scenes, that Haruichi took credit for).</p><p>The pieces were set, the cards, dealt; all that remained was to start the game.</p><p>Kiyoomi set down his now empty champagne flute on a table and slipped quietly upstairs to his bedroom. He never stayed here—the room was mostly for show from the day Haruichi picked him up and “gifted” him the Sakusa last name (Kiyoomi lived in a rundown apartment in Shibuya rented out under a fake name)—but it had a small rooftop balcony and provided a way out aside from the front door and kitchen back door where he definitely would be spotted. </p><p>Pushing the glass door open, Kiyoomi slipped outside to where he’d stashed his attaché case, dark trench coat, and scarf earlier. He deftly made his way across the roof, pulling the outerwear on silently. Kiyoomi looped a black medical mask over his ears and paused for only a second to check the time on his phone.</p><p>21:27 read the digital display. Haruichi was well on his way to drunk territory and had ample distraction back at the house. </p><p>Kiyoomi jumped down from the main house to the roof of the attached garage, wedged a gloved hand between two of the red bricks lining the sides, and stepped one foot down. Quietly, he climbed down and slinked across the property draped in night’s generous blanket of darkness. </p><p>21:35 and Kiyoomi was on a train to Nagatachō. </p><p>By 21:41, he stood, tucked into the shadow of a pillar making up the stone and iron wall fencing in the National Diet Building with its bright lights and round dome. </p><p>There were no people here after the election, and with a quick glance at his surroundings, Kiyoomi pulled out his phone to type in the keywords to Haruichi’s Palace. Two out of the three were input when the hair on the back of his neck stood and he ducked down instinctively.</p><p>A silenced gunshot sliced into the stone behind him, right where his head had been.</p><p>Kiyoomi clenched his teeth and pocketed his phone before straightening, stepping out into the streetlight to face his opponent.</p><p>“I hope you realize that you just damaged government property, Inagawa-san,” he spoke softly, calm despite the adrenaline beginning to thrum under his skin.</p><p>The man known to a select few as Inagawa and more widely known as "The Cleaner" cocked a brow and grinned, lamplight glinting off the sunglasses hiding his eyes, even this late at night. </p><p>“Come now, Kiyoomi-kun, you were hidden so well, no one’d notice that.”</p><p>Kiyoomi schooled his face but narrowed his eyes slightly at the yakuza. “Do you need something, or do you simply find it entertaining to wave around a gun?”</p><p>Inagawa had two of his men flanking him, but they seemed to be it. The Cleaner, himself, had fired that warning shot, though why, Kiyoomi’s mind raced to piece together as his dark eyes flicked to take in his situation. </p><p>“Ah, well, kid, I’ve got a bit of a job,” Inagawa rocked onto one hip, lazily shrugging his pistol. “Cleaning up after people is my whole gig, as you know.”</p><p>Kiyoomi stiffened, involuntarily bracing himself at the unspoken answer to his question. </p><p>Of course. <em> Of fucking course. </em></p><p>Out of all his plans, he should have known better than to think his one blood relative wouldn’t throw Kiyoomi under the bus at the nearest opportunity once he got what he wanted. Kiyoomi had been useful, but now Haruichi stood at the top of Japan. It wasn’t that Kiyoomi had never thought about it, but he figured he’d be so insignificant to Haruichi that his father would leave his bastard son alone for long enough for Kiyoomi to see his revenge through.</p><p>The Cleaner lifted his gun again, trained it right between Kiyoomi’s narrowed eyes. </p><p>Should he dodge and try to slip into Haruichi’s Palace? Run straight at him? Stall for time? Kiyoomi didn’t have a lot of options here. He needed a way out.</p><p>“You aren’t really going to shoot me here, are you? Shouldn’t we go somewhere easier to hide, easier to clean up? I’d rather not have a hole blown through my head right in front of a bunch of old politicians’ playground.” Kiyoomi said, hand clutching the handle of his attaché case tightly.</p><p>A lopsided smirk played on Inagawa’s face, “I s’ppose you’re right. How about we go for a walk then, huh? Find a more dignified resting place, then, as your, ah, last request.”</p><p>Kiyoomi stepped forward, eyes on Inagawa, who cricked his head to the right. The dark-haired boy turned in that direction and began walking forward, away from the Diet Building. </p><p>They crossed the deserted street like that: Kiyoomi in front, Inagawa directly behind him, and the lackeys bracketing the boy’s sides in a sort of diamond shape. They were heading back towards the depths of the city, to the nearest alleyway, Kiyoomi assumed.</p><p>But he couldn’t let them get that far. He had to get away. He had <em> plans. </em> </p><p>They’d gotten a few meters down the street leading away from the Diet Building’s main gate when Kiyoomi knew he had to act. </p><p>There wasn’t a car in sight, but Inagawa had lowered the gun from his head to just below his neck, against his left shoulder blade, to hide it. Kensei Memorial Park was to his right. </p><p>Before he could even suck a breath in and hope he wasn’t about to get shot point-blank, Kiyoomi ducked and flung his scarf into the air behind him, hoping the surprise would blind Inagawa momentarily. </p><p>He swung his attaché case, slamming the side into the right lackey’s face. A bullet whizzed by his face, but he was already running, zig-zagging into the park, leaping over well-trimmed bushes, and dodging behind trees.</p><p>He sprinted through the park, polished shoes skidding on grass as he careened to the left to avoid running face-first into the small pond in the middle. Gunshots cracked into tree trucks around him, spraying him with splinters, and Kiyoomi willed his legs to not trip over any unruly roots or unseen holes in the ground. The street was just ahead. </p><p>Kiyoomi chucked his case over the iron fence surrounding the park and jumped to haul himself over it, catching one of his gloves on the bars and slicing it open, its sharp spike breaking through to his skin, drawing blood. He squatted down with a wince to grab the case with his opposite hand when his left arm lit up in pain. </p><p>Inagawa and his men were right behind him. </p><p>Kiyoomi gave no thought to his next actions, scooping up his case and diving out into the busy street before him. The light was green and he sprinted between cars, leaping and sliding over them, as drivers honked and yelled, one not hitting their brakes fast enough and clocking him in the hip, but he didn’t stop. Gunshots ricocheted off the pavement and the cars around him, thankfully lodging themselves in concrete and metal and not flesh. Kiyoomi bared his teeth and kept going. </p><p>He had to get out of here. But where? The nearest station was… Kiyoomi raced through his options, hurdling across a low chain railing to cut through a parking lot, before spying a street sign for Kasumigaseki. He turned sharply, pushing his legs to go faster at the sound of shouts behind him, and ducked down into the stairway leading underground. </p><p>Kiyoomi almost tripped as he ran down the stairs two at a time, long legs reaching the underground quickly. He knocked a tired businessman or two down as he hopped the ticket scanner (much to the guard’s discontent) and skidded out to the nearest platform. He could hear a train approaching and jumped down another flight of stairs, landing hard on his heels with a hissed curse, but Kiyoomi couldn’t stop. Stopping meant forfeiting his life. And Kiyoomi didn’t forfeit anything; he had <em> plans, </em> dammit. </p><p>He reached the platform just as the arriving train’s doors were opening and shoved inside, ducking below the windows and moving to switch cars as soon as he boarded. </p><p>He didn’t stop moving until he’d reached the front of the train and had been on whatever line this was for ten minutes. Then, Kiyoomi slumped down into a seat, praying he’d outrun his pursuers to get at least a bit of a head start. </p><p>Head down and heart racing, he slammed his fist into the train wall to his right and grit his teeth. Fucking Sakusa Haruichi. Kiyoomi had got him this far and this was how his father repaid him?</p><p>As the train rattled along stopping at its requisite stops, with only the thought of Inagawa and his men hopefully kilometers behind him to keep him company, Kiyoomi had time to register the fire in his left arm, opposite hand, and hip.</p><p>Kiyoomi tried to slow his breathing as his dark eyes flicked down the deserted train car and then back to the steadily oozing wound on his arm. With a low hiss, he clenched his teeth and tugged his coat off to get a better look at the wound. </p><p>The bullet hadn’t hit its mark (thank gods), but Kiyoomi could tell with increasing panic that it had gouged out a fair bit of his arm, if the blood soaking his sleeve and torso was any indication of its severity. He jerked his tie out of its perfect Christensen knot and shakily wrapped it around his upper arm. Kiyoomi only hoped he could get the bleeding to stop—he didn’t have time to pass out from blood loss on this ridiculous mission to stay alive. </p><p>Tying off his makeshift tourniquet with his right hand and teeth, Kiyoomi barked out a hollow laugh and leaned back against the seat, covered in blood and pissed to all hell. </p><p>He probably wouldn’t be able to make it back to the Diet Building tonight, and now that he knew what Haruichi had in store for him, Kiyoomi was even angrier at the man. </p><p>How dare that bastard force his last name on Kiyoomi, use him to do his dirty work, and then throw him away the second it was all over? Rage boiled within him and, for the first time that night, he heard a voice in the back of his head. </p><p>
  <em> That’s not how we do things, is it, child? </em>
</p><p>Loki rumbled within him, a low, dangerous hum that melded with the anger inside of Kiyoomi and sharpened his focus. </p><p>Loki was right; he’d just have to adjust his plans. Kiyoomi would just have to work quicker than The Cleaner and Haruichi’s other hitmen. He had the Metaverse on his side; he had<em> Loki </em> for gods’ sake (and to a lesser extent, Robin Hood, though the other had been mostly silent since Kiyoomi’d put a bullet through Miya Atsumu’s head).</p><p>If one plan fell through, Kiyoomi would just make another. And if he couldn’t get into Haruichi’s Palace, he’d just have to exact his revenge the old fashioned way. He tugged on his coat again, conveniently disguising the worst of his injury, powered his phone off, and got off at the next stop, blending in with the late night crowd to switch lines. </p><p>Two hours later, Kiyoomi was exhausted, having lost more blood than he ever wanted by taking a roundabout way to Shibuya and then going a little farther, to throw off any possible tail he might still have. He couldn’t go home anyway, so there was no use staying in Shibuya. After stepping off the last train, he hurried down backstreets close to main districts, never letting himself stray too far into unlit alleyways. He'd thrown his phone away in a random garbage bin and discovered his wounds less serious than expected, since he was still on his feet, just a smidge dizzy. Kiyoomi was too wired and paranoid to slip into a random hotel to sleep, so he wandered the backstreets for a while and argued within himself whether he could chance stopping at a pharmacy or convenience store for supplies without drawing too much attention. He decided that answer was <em> no</em>, committed to trudging onwards, and instead tried to pull together some semblance of a working plan. </p><p>Kiyoomi probably couldn’t go back to class next week, in fact, he probably couldn’t stay in Tokyo if his father was after his head. Kiyoomi had everything in line to disappear, so this just sped that along, but the problem was that he had yet to pull the plug on Haruichi. If he couldn’t do that, why was he still alive?</p><p>He’d worked his entire life for this and yet, when his goal grazed his fingertips, life had to knock him down with one swift blow. </p><p>Oh, how Kiyoomi <em> seethed. </em></p><p>Haruichi might be safe for now, but the minute Kiyoomi could get close enough to him, he was going to drag his father into the Metaverse and rain down the heaviest Laevateinn on that greedy, disillusioned scum that Loki could muster. </p><p>Haruichi thought he could take his bastard son on, and Kiyoomi was now looking forward to proving him wrong, to proving to him who the real winner was. Loki hummed in approval.</p><p>With a sick sort of grin on his face, Kiyoomi indulged in detailing out everything he was going to do when he finally held Haruichi’s life in his hands. It took his mind off the numbing pain in his left side and kept him awake. Even if he had to wait longer, even if that ass of a man calling himself Kiyoomi’s father got to experience the satisfaction of being prime minister like Kiyoomi never wanted to let him, it wouldn’t be permanent. </p><p>Kiyoomi was a force to be reckoned with, and Haruichi was going to regret ever teaching him to kill. </p><p>Kiyoomi was pulled out of his bittersweet homicidal fantasies when he abruptly realized his location. The dark-haired boy swayed on his feet as the backstreets of Yongen-Jaya waved silently back at him. </p><p>How did he get here?</p><p>But… wait— there was a back alley clinic here, Atsumu had mentioned it once, offhand. Maybe he could find it and bribe the physician. And, there was a public bath— Kiyoomi glanced around him again, but not a soul was nearby, save for a homeless man slumped in a corner. Yes, this was good enough.</p><p>He was about to turn and head back to the main street to reorient himself when a voice called out to him, splintering the quiet night into pieces and making Kiyoomi almost jump out of his skin.</p><p>“Sakusa-san?”</p><p>Kiyoomi jerked to his right, meeting brown eyes and blond hair and—</p><p>“Yachi?” The name fell off his lips before he could stop it, but the second after, he realized his mistake. </p><p>He was standing in front of Leblanc. His tired feet traitorously led him to the last place in the world he wanted to be. Kiyoomi was exhausted, injured, and his patience left hours ago when Inagawa fired his first shot. He did <em> not </em> want to deal with a bunch of stuck-up, privileged kids who didn’t understand the first thing about the real world.</p><p>Kiyoomi spun, eyes wide and wild, and attempted to dredge up the last stores of his energy to sprint away. He didn’t care if it would ruin his reputation as calm, quiet, and quick-witted; he just had to get out of here. </p><p>Before he could take a single step, a strong hand gripped his left wrist and with a flash of pain, Bokuto Koutarou was dragging him inside the cafe and the door was shut and locked behind them.</p><p>Blinking in the sudden bright light of the cafe, Kiyoomi glared at Bokuto until the white-grey-black-haired boy let go of his arm. The detective tsked and swept his dark eyes over the rest of the cafe. </p><p><em> Of course </em> the rest of the Phantom Thieves were here, awake and alive despite the late hour. Sakura-san was even present, raising an unamused brow at Kiyoomi and his disheveled appearance. Kiyoomi reached up to tug at his mask before realizing he’d discarded it somewhere along his commute and settled for glaring over the top of Hinata’s gaping expression as the redhead sat at the counter. Yachi was practically guarding the door with her small, hunched frame, so Kiyoomi couldn’t just turn and leave.</p><p>He sighed, pushing back his sweaty curls and standing tall, “What do you want.”</p><p>Kiyoomi didn’t bother to hold the venom back from his voice—it didn’t matter if he was no longer the Detective Prince; that boy was as good as dead. </p><p>There were a couple beats of silence as the Phantom Thieves took him in. Kiyoomi tried not to roll his eyes and tap a foot, but then he remembered he didn’t care about keeping up appearances and let his impatience show.</p><p>Kuroo Tetsurou narrowed his eyes and straightened from his place leaning against a booth, “Why are you here?”</p><p>“I’d like to know that too, Kuroo-san, but more so, I’d like to <em> not </em> be here. So if you’ll excuse me—”</p><p>“You’re not going anywhere, kid,” Sakura-san cut him off with an unimpressed look. “Not lookin’ like that, at least.” The man inspected Kiyoomi up and down, eyes lingering on the torn, darkened left sleeve of his jacket.</p><p>“I would <em> hate </em> to intrude,” Kiyoomi hissed, focusing his glare on the owner.</p><p>Sakura-san met his gaze steadily, “I wasn’t asking.”</p><p>They stared each other down for a few long, tense moments. Sakura-san moved around behind the counter without breaking the staring contest they were having. He set down a cup of coffee on the counter in front of the corner bar seat without looking away. </p><p>Kiyoomi’s eye twitched before he turned his head and rolled his eyes. He threw himself onto the barstool and took a long gulp of the burning liquid, slamming the cup down onto its saucer with a frustrated huff. </p><p>The Thieves allowed a couple more minutes of silence and Kiyoomi propped himself up on his right hand and glared down at his cup of coffee, doing his best to ignore both the pain in his left arm and the piercing gazes of six teenagers and a fox. He was almost successful too, until Sakura-san dropped a first aid kit onto the counter beside Kiyoomi and gave him a very pointed look that dared the boy to try and lip off again.</p><p>Kiyoomi bit his tongue hard enough to draw blood and moved to open the box, but Ushijima beat him to it. The detective opened his mouth to protest, but thought better of it and instead moved to begrudgingly slough off his coat, unwind his tie, and undo his vest and shirt buttons. He shrugged out of the vest and peeled the soaked left sleeve of his gray shirt off his injured shoulder with a tight grimace. Yachi and Hinata gasped, but things honestly weren’t as bad as they looked. Blood could be misleading sometimes.</p><p>Ushijima wiped at his arm with a warm towel. Kiyoomi made a point to be as unwilling to help as possible, but the artist didn’t seem to mind, dressing the wound with deft fingers without a word. Ushijima was definitely the only one Kiyoomi could stand. In fact, he could feel the questions burning behind him before they even exploded out of the rest of the Thieves’ mouths. They oh-so-kindly waited until he’d pulled his shirt back on and tugged off his ripped glove to wrap a bandage around his right hand before they jumped on him.</p><p>“What happened, Sakusa-san?” shouted a chorus of 7 voices before a look from Sakura-san hushed them.<br/><br/>“Did you get in a fight?” Suna asked, fingers itching for his phone.</p><p>“Did some radical jump you after the election cuz you’re Sakusa’s son?” Bokuto screeched over the back of his chair.</p><p>Kiyoomi ignored them.</p><p>“This <em> does </em>have something to do with your dad, doesn’t it?” Kuroo asked, but it was hardly a question with the way his amber cat eyes bored into Kiyoomi.</p><p>Kiyoomi snapped, gritting his teeth with a snarl, <em> “He’s not my dad.” </em></p><p>“But your last name <em> is </em>Sakusa, Sakusa-san—”</p><p>
  <em> “DON’T CALL ME THAT!” </em>
</p><p>He definitely didn’t mean to yell, but his anxiety, tension, and anger had been mounting since the party this evening, crescendoing until they spun out of his control entirely. Kiyoomi<em> hated </em> not having control. Hinata’s innocent truth snapped the last tether to his passively kind public persona, leaving Kiyoomi to discard that mask completely.</p><p>“Do <em> NOT </em> call me that. I am <em> NOT </em> his son!” He seethed, shoving out of his chair, ignoring the sharp pang of pain slicing through his left side and turning on Hinata, fingers itching for his favorite Metaverse weapons. “I am my mother’s survivor after <em> he </em> raped and threw her away. She killed herself because of him. And he’s nothing but an end to me. Just like you all were nothing but a means to that end, to me.”</p><p>Kiyoomi spun to face the rest of them, voice rising, “I am not your friend or ally. I was <em> always </em> your enemy. You were nothing but stupid pawns to help me reach my goal. I used you to cover up my actions— <em> we </em> used you as the scapegoat for our plans. Killing Miya was one necessary step in a line of many gruesome things <em> I </em> had to do to get close enough to end that bastard who offhandedly claimed I was his son!”</p><p>“And I couldn’t even do that. So for the love of god, just leave me alone,” he dropped back into his seat and turned to his coffee, panting slightly from his outburst and trying to reign himself in. This was pointless. He was just wasting his own time right now. He should be coming up with plans, not taking out his anger on a bunch of sad, tired teenagers.</p><p>Silence settled over them. Kiyoomi finished his coffee, feeling a comfortable warmth settle into his bones though the exhaustion was still very present. Then Osamu spoke.</p><p>“You… You killed Atsumu?”</p><p>There was little point in lying now, Kiyoomi decided. There was little the remnants of the Phantom Thieves could do, now. “I did.”</p><p>Yachi sucked in a shaky breath and Bokuto made to approach Kiyoomi, but Kuroo stepped up, holding an arm in front of the grey-haired boy. </p><p>“Why?” Kuroo demanded, his face harsh and unforgiving, but searching Kiyoomi’s eyes for a light that no longer shined in them. </p><p>That was the question, wasn’t it? </p><p>Why had he done it? Why had he so readily agreed to put a bullet through a high schooler’s head? Had it just been a stepping stone to get Kiyoomi closer to getting rid of Haruichi? Or had it been something more?</p><p>Kiyoomi hated Atsumu, this he knew. Miya Atsumu was cocky and bright and talented, and he waltzed around with that stupid smirk looking like he could see right through you. Atsumu was enticing, a challenge laid out on a silver platter for Kiyoomi to fiddle with until he found all of Atsumu’s faults, picking him apart until there was nothing left of the blonde boy. Atsumu was the only one who kept up with Kiyoomi, in wits and banter alike, and Atsumu didn’t care who he was. He didn’t mind finding out that Kiyoomi was more than the nice and polite boy of a year older. In fact, the blonde, bespectacled boy seemed to take it upon himself to draw Kiyoomi out of his perfect Detective Prince shell.</p><p>Kiyoomi hated Atsumu. They weren’t friends; no, they never quite made it that far. They weren’t exactly enemies either, not really—Atsumu just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, digging into something he shouldn’t have touched. But they were more than acquaintances by now. They could fight side by side and meet each other’s power and intellect with perfect accuracy like their routine 701 games in Kichioji. Kiyoomi could bounce ideas off Atsumu and the boy who acted like a dumb nobody would comeback with thought-out suggestions, pretty brown eyes flashing behind those lame fake glasses. </p><p>Atsumu treated Kiyoomi like an equal. </p><p>And Kiyoomi hated it. </p><p>He hated how someone was genuinely nice to him, how Atsumu wanted to get to know him <em> just because, </em> and not to take advantage of the detective’s (fake) kindness or get on Kiyoomi’s good side because of his last name. </p><p>Kiyoomi hated how open Atsumu was, how <em> trusting </em> Atsumu was. Everything Kiyoomi did was laden with mystery and suspicion—he was practically screaming, “I’m a villain! Don't trust me!” in Atsumu’s face—but the blonde boy still gave him the benefit of the doubt. Atsumu bore witness to the cruelty and corruption of the world, and instead of giving up on it and condemning it like Kiyoomi had, Atsumu worked to change it.</p><p>Kiyoomi didn’t quite know how to feel about such pure kindness, and that’s what angered him the most. </p><p>His feelings toward the blonde boy had long passed simple jealousy, but this new territory was completely unknown to Kiyoomi. There was an unnamed tension and a strange sort of understanding and connection that pressed between them in their meetings following their duel in Mementos. Kiyoomi had avoided putting a name to them because he decided he was much better off burying those feelings in the sand rather than realizing them with the power of an abstract noun. Words held great power over one’s cognition; Kiyoomi knew this well, and he wasn’t about to make a fool of himself so late in the game. He had no need for such complicated emotions. He had a job to do. He had <em> plans. </em></p><p>
  <em> Why did he kill Miya Atsumu? </em>
</p><p>“...There was no other option,” Kiyoomi muttered at last, eyeing the design on his saucer. “Haruichi would’ve known if I’d broken him out or not had him captured in the first place. And if I didn’t do it, he would’ve just called someone else. It was game over no matter what by the time we infiltrated Sayuri-san’s Palace.”</p><p>“But…” Yachi’s voice broke but she surged forward, gripping her knees tightly. “But there <em> was </em> another option…I just— why didn’t it work?”</p><p>“I don’t know what you’re talking about, nor do I care, to be quite honest, because it’s too late now but… I did find it strange when Sayuri-san told me he ratted you out,” Kiyoomi said into his empty cup. </p><p>“I’m not sure what they did to him there, but from his appearance, I can only assume they beat and drugged him like they would any enemy of the state to get them to admit to their crimes, except…” He gripped the cup until his knuckles turned white and he could feel the burn of pain from the cut in his hand, “Except he was only a minor—they shouldn’t have done any of that, no matter the allegations and charges against him. Haruichi knew our plan; there was no reason to beat the truth out of him, they should have just left him alone in that room. His recount was completely unnecessary because I was to kill him no matter what.”</p><p>Kiyoomi paused, frowning tiredly down at the countertop, before taking a breath and adding on softly. “The Miya Atsumu I knew wouldn’t tattle. He’d never swallow that enormous, god-awful pride of his and admit he did any wrong either. His stance on the Phantom Thieves, on the work you all did, has always been immovable. So I don’t know. I wish I could say I didn’t want to kill him, but I did. I hated him, and I wanted to get rid of him. Simple as that. I’m well aware my revenge is childish and petty, but I couldn’t care less. I was never trying to be a hero, that wasn’t something I cared about, but like I said, there really was no other option, no better plan.” </p><p>The Phantom Thieves were quiet after that, slowly digesting his words, their anger building like a snowfall that wouldn’t let up: soft and light until millions of flakes settled on top of them and weighed them down enough that things crumbled. The weight of their silence was suffocating, but Kiyoomi couldn’t find it in him to offer any condolences. </p><p>He was the one who did this to them, after all. </p><p>Kiyoomi made a decision the day he marched up to Sakusa Haruichi and pledged his allegiance, just like Miya Atsumu did when he formed the Phantom Thieves, and there were no take-backs. Not in this life, at least.</p><p>Kiyoomi pushed away from the counter and stood up. </p><p>Bokuto stopped him. </p><p>“So were you… also the one behind the mental breakdowns?”</p><p>Kiyoomi nodded once.</p><p>“And did you— my mom, she—” Yachi squeaked. </p><p>He grimaced. Yachi Madoka had been his first. He hadn’t known what he was doing, didn’t yet know what the consequence was of killing the cognitive version of someone. But that would be nothing but a cheap excuse to Madoka’s daughter. </p><p>“And you killed my dad after we left his Palace,” Suna added in when Kiyoomi didn’t answer. He was slouched in a booth, one hand absently stroking Osamu. </p><p>“...Yes,” he simply said.</p><p>Kiyoomi turned away from them, grabbing his attaché case with his good hand, and took a step towards the door.</p><p>“...Because you didn’t have a choice,” Hinata’s voice came from his place next to Yachi, small but steady. “Your dad, er, Big Baddie Sakusa-san, was forcing you to do that. He was using you.” The redhead had tears in his eyes but resolution on his face. </p><p>Even after admitting to his crimes, they were still digging for good. </p><p>But Kiyoomi didn’t have any good left in him. He was an empty shell of the boy he used to be: the boy from ten years ago who believed that his father would one day come for him and his mother and set them free from their miseries. The boy who believed in cheap, pretty things like love and hope and <em> good</em>. </p><p>“It doesn’t matter, Hinata-san,” he spoke low, <em> cold</em>. “Even if it was forced, at the end of the day, it was me who willingly pulled the trigger. That is all that matters in a court of law. I could’ve reported him, could’ve tried to get out of that whole situation, but I played along. I wanted to beat him at his own game. He would’ve done this with or without me, anyhow. Haruichi funded Yachi’s mom's research on cognitive psience, you know; he knew about the Metaverse even before I came along. He would’ve found another way to the top without my help. I was simply a convenient gift to him and his plans, wrapped up with a big red bow and delivered onto his doorstep the second my mom died.</p><p>“Don’t try to make me look better than I am,” Kiyoomi said with a laugh, sardonic and leaning on crazed, turning to face them once more. He couldn’t believe they were still clinging to their naive justice, after everything he’d done to them.</p><p>“I’m your <em> enemy, </em> not an antihero with a tragic backstory,” he spat, voice rising. “I killed your friend; I’ve killed a lot of people, without a care for who they were or what they left behind. Hell, I was supposed to kill you all sometime down the line, and I would have been okay with that as well. It’s too late for you to try and justify my actions. I don’t regret doing the things I did to bring down my father, and even if I did, it doesn’t matter. </p><p>“There are no more heroes left in this world. No more wannabes like Miya trying to change the way society thinks. It’s kill or be killed. Simple as that. I’ve crimes to atone for, sins that cannot be overlooked, nor should they be. You <em> should </em> be angry at me,” Kiyoomi waved his good arm at them, incredulous, “you <em> should </em> hate me. If you want, I’ll even let you land the killing blow. It’s only a matter of time, after all.”</p><p>A cocktail of anger, sadness, and fear painted their faces as the Phantom Thieves fell into silence once more, tasting and ruminating over his words. </p><p>Kiyoomi eyed each of them. Kuroo, for once, was lost in thought, brow furrowed. Suna fiddled with Osamu’s tail, and the normally smart-assed fox was oddly silent. Hinata was staring at the floor, and Bokuto paced quietly in front of them. Yachi looked like she was about to cry again, but kept sneaking glances over at Sakura-san behind the counter. Ushijima stared back at Kiyoomi. </p><p>“You’re asking if we’d like to take your life, in exchange for your crimes?” asked the artist. </p><p>Kiyoomi shrugged a shoulder tiredly. It didn’t matter who killed him at this rate. He was just dancing away from the fire as it inched ever closer. </p><p>Bokuto frowned, stopped mid-pace, spun around, and opened his mouth to address Kiyoomi—</p><p>—<em>Knock knock knock</em>. </p><p>They all looked towards the door. </p><p>“Looks like my time is up.” Kiyoomi smirked mirthlessly and strode forward.</p><p>But before he could reach the door, Sakura-san pushed Kiyoomi behind him. </p><p>“You sit your ass back down in that chair. We’re not done talking, kid.”</p><p>Kiyoomi narrowed his eyes at the man. “This has nothing to do with you. Just—”</p><p>Sakura-san turned to face him, “<em>No</em>. Now sit down before I have to get my duct tape and personally make sure you stay put.” </p><p>And that was that. Kiyoomi blinked in frustrated disbelief as Sakura-san unlocked the door and stepped outside without another word.</p><p>Kiyoomi glared at the door for a few beats before giving up and awkwardly sitting back down in his chair, straining his ears to listen. </p><p>It was Inagawa, Kiyoomi knew it would be, though he was surprised he found him here so quickly. </p><p>Sakura-san was saying something about government connections, and when Inagawa protested, the cafe owner’s voice dropped into a growl so low, even Osamu gave up trying to listen in. </p><p>After several minutes of muffled back and forth, Sakura-san stepped back inside, closing and locking the door once more. </p><p>Inagawa shouted from behind the door, “Kiyoomi-kun, ya know ya can’t hide forever. I’ll see to ya soon. Can’t go disappointin’ your dad like ya.” And then he was gone, his promise filling the quiet cafe like a thick cloud of smoke, expanding and engulfing everything into its radius. </p><p>Kiyoomi clenched his jaw. What was the point in waiting? Puppeted or not, he was a criminal and would pay for his crimes. Why stall any longer? Did they want to watch him put his own pistol in his mouth and pull the trigger or what?</p><p>“He’s right; you can’t hide forever,” Sakura-san rumbled, still standing by the door. </p><p>“No shit.<em> No fucking shit!”</em> Kiyoomi swore, slamming a hand down on the counter and rattling his empty cup. He’d had enough of their half-assed, good samaritan bullshit. </p><p>“What’s the fucking point of sending him off, huh? Of protecting a criminal?! This has nothing to do with you. My fate is <em> sealed. </em> I have no need for your worthless pity! Why are you all so incompetent? Must I do everything myself?”</p><p>Sakura-san considered him for a long moment, then spoke. “I understand your situation was hell from the start, and I’m probably never going to forgive you for what you’ve done, but you don’t deserve to be condemned to an end like this, you’re still a kid. I’m not surprised you’re trying to take the easy way out, son, but that’s not how things work. You of all people should know that.”</p><p>Kiyoomi just glared at the man as Sakura-san continued.</p><p>“It’s hard to dethrone someone as high up as your dad—”</p><p>“—HE’S NOT MY DAD!”</p><p>“—Like Sakusa Haruichi,” Sakura-san amended, stepping forward, “but knowing all this, we can’t just stand still. The police—”</p><p>“—The police won’t do shit,” Kiyoomi spat. “Even if I turn myself in, admit all my crimes, and point fingers at him, they’re all under him anyway, or they’ll accept his bribes. I’m DEAD. What’s right and what’s wrong doesn’t matter anymore! Haruichi will get what he wants. He’s got all of Japan in his pocket.”</p><p>The cafe owner scowled and opened his mouth to retort, but Osamu beat him to it. </p><p>
  <em> “Then we just need to change Haruichi’s heart.” </em>
</p><p>Kiyoomi groaned and yanked his good hand through his messy curls, “That’s not—”</p><p>Hinata jumped at the opportunity, “Yeah! We already know he has a Palace, why not take him out?”</p><p>“He may be the main boss but there’s still all of us,” Bokuto chimed in with a small grin. </p><p>“Aren’t we forgetting something, guys?” Kuroo asked warily. “We haven’t even been to his Palace— we don’t have the last keyword. Even if we did, we’d still have to secure a path to the treasure and then send out a calling card or his treasure won’t manifest.”</p><p>Ushijima hummed in agreement, “And we do not have that kind of time. Even if we went tonight, I doubt Haruichi’s Palace would be simple enough to clear on the first try.”</p><p>“Right, and there’s the possibility we’ll need to do something in this reality to continue on,” Suna added, squinting his eyes and leaning forward onto the table. “It’s a bit too unrealistic.”</p><p>“And it’s not going to happen,” Kiyoomi cut in. “Haruichi will have people stationed outside the Diet Building; you won’t even get close. I tried and was almost killed for it.”</p><p>“But—!”</p><p>“There is<em> no point.” </em>Kiyoomi growled. “I understand wanting to take him out, but you can do that later. Don't waste your breath trying to save a dead man walking. I have better things to do,” he pushed past Sakura-san and opened the cafe door.</p><p>There, with one foot out the door, the jingling of the bell tittering tiredly into the night, Kiyoomi froze, dark eyes widening.</p><p>Outside was an ocean of red and black. The world was dyed in blood, monsters roamed, and the silence was unrealistically deafening.</p><p>The rest of the Thieves scrambled up behind him, pressing forward to get a glimpse, and then they tumbled forward onto the ground in front of the cafe. They crashed into a pile of limbs, heads on others’ arms, legs kicking into faces, but all of them were clambering to get a clear look at the scene before them. </p><p>A silver moon hung high in the sky, shining down onto the sea of skeletal structures fading into existence from the darkness as blood rained down from nonexistent clouds above them. </p><p>The neighborhood would wake up to a world no longer just their own, once they found what was waiting for them on this early winter morning.</p><p>Kiyoomi and the Phantom Thieves didn’t need to know what was going on to be able to tell what they were looking at. </p><p>Somehow, for some reason, Mementos was <em> here</em>, bleeding into reality. Or… </p><p>“Reality has merged with Mementos…” breathed Osamu from his perch atop Hinata’s fiery hair. </p><p>
  <em> Because they were always one in the same, weren’t they? </em>
</p><p>Crackling laughter boomed behind them in the cafe. Kiyoomi was on his feet in a second, hand reaching for his attaché case, the Phantom Thieves close behind. </p><p>“Trickster, my petty little thieves— like what you see?”</p><p>Before them stood a mess of a shadowed figure, a slice of reality carved out by darkness with two slanted white eyes that they couldn’t look straight into. The figure warped and danced in front of them and despite the lack of a complete face, Kiyoomi could tell it was smiling. </p><p>Sakura-san gaped from behind the counter, floundering for a defense weapon and coming up with only a curry ladle, unused to the monsters of the Metaverse, but Kiyoomi and the rest of the Phantom Thieves stood their ground. </p><p>“Who’re you?” yelled Bokuto, stepping up next to Kiyoomi, arms crossed in front of him like he was addressing a pack of bullies and not… whatever this was. </p><p>“I am the People’s Will,” echoed the figure, not aloud, not quite in their heads, but somewhere in between. “The Creator of Worlds, the Sculptor of the First Man. Some call me ‘chaos-borne’, the ‘Fake God’, but I prefer the title: God of Control.”</p><p>“I fashioned you all, I made this game, and I sought out the ending which you have so beautifully provided me, Trickster,” the God of Control addressed Kiyoomi, those white-hot eyes burning straight into his soul. </p><p>“What’re you talking about?” Hinata shouted. </p><p>“What ‘game’?” asked Kuroo. </p><p>“‘God of Control’?” murmured Ushijima, narrowing his eyes. </p><p>Kiyoomi stayed silent. </p><p>“Ah yes, this <em> game. </em> An old friend of mine and I bet on the fate of this world.” The shadow gestured widely with jagged wisps for arms, “which would be stronger: the prisoner’s desire for salvation from corruption or another’s wish for complete destruction? Unfortunately for you, the prisoner crumbled under the barest hint of pressure. Congratulations, my Trickster, you’ve won.”</p><p>Kiyoomi’s hand twitched. </p><p>“Wh-what prisoner are you talking about?” stuttered Yachi, surprising everyone, as she stepped forward from behind Bokuto. “You m-m-mean Atsumu?”</p><p>Yaldabaoth smiled again, “Miya Atsumu. Joker. Prisoner. Wild Card. They are one in the same, just another child making a futile attempt to change the world. Your leader raised quite a fight, but failed to even glance the truth, in the end. He was entertaining to play with, but even more so to watch fall.”</p><p>“Wild card… like in poker?” Hinata wondered aloud, eyes wide.</p><p>“Why…” Suna muttered, glaring at the shadow, “if you created this, why bring ruin to your own world?”</p><p>“...You ask the wrong question, child,” the God of Control hummed in response, his figure flickering darker still as if it sucked all light in the room into itself. </p><p>“I am simply fulfilling what has been asked of me. If the people desire it, then their will shall become reality. This is what they wanted. You fickle children think too highly of yourselves and your weak-willed ‘justice’ as you claim it. In the end, you are no different from the rest of the world, selfishly chasing your desires. But no matter, the hour of destruction is upon us; it is too late for change, too late for that silly thing you humans call regret. The people have given their will back to me, where it rightfully shall stay.”</p><p>Bokuto frowned. “So… The world is ending and we can’t stop it, is what you’re saying,” said the owl-headed boy, hands on his hips. “And somethin’ about Tsum-Tsum being your prisoner… Whatever that means.”</p><p>“Miya Atsumu was not <em> my </em>prisoner, no,” laughed the figure, “although I may have… had a bit of fun with the boy. But no, my player, my wild card, was you.” </p><p>The god turned to Kiyoomi, “Fujimori Kiyoomi, Crow, the Black Mask. Tokyo’s beloved Detective Prince. Although, I suppose your name is Sakusa now, isn’t it? I must thank you for your performance. It’s not often I come across a human with such a craving for ruin.”</p><p>The smile that shone from those blinding non-eyes was the last straw. Kiyoomi saw red. </p><p>
  <em> Bang! </em>
</p><p>Kiyoomi had had enough. </p><p>He’d had enough of being puppeteered into doing someone else’s bullshit, manipulated into dancing to someone else’s tune, used like a pawn in some messed up god’s game—which he apparently was, now that they got down to it. The silver handgun in his right hand held steady as he glared down the distorted shadow with a god complex, the wicked fires of rebellion blazing in his onyx eyes.</p><p>But Kiyoomi’s perfect shot, striking the shadowed figure right between those two slanted, glowing orbs, lodged itself into the wood-lined wall at the back of the cafe with a loud <em> CRACK! </em></p><p>“I. Am. Done.” Kiyoomi voiced, enunciating each word sharply like they were poison-tipped darts and he kept hitting bullseye. Loki shimmered behind him like a warning before fading just as quickly. </p><p>“I am done with this. I am not your player. I’m no one’s puppet, and I never have been. Every decision I've made has been my own.”</p><p>Kiyoomi’s eyes flashed, deadly, in Leblanc’s low lighting, and he gripped his gun even tighter, face contorting into a look of absolute rage and abhorrence.</p><p>The shadow just laughed at him.</p><p>The God of Control laughed, loud and mocking, the sound of it echoing off the cafe walls and ringing in their heads. It didn’t stop, didn't falter in the least, as Kiyoomi emptied his cartridge with practiced aim. His bullets wedged themselves into the wall by the stairs to the attic,<strike><em> to Atsumu’s home, </em></strike> each one physical evidence that all Kiyoomi was to this world was a player, a puppet, a character on a stage for the world to laugh and point at. He was about to reach down into the open attaché case at his feet for his spare clip when Kuroo wrapped a hand around his left wrist. </p><p>Kiyoomi tugged hard at his grip, angry, but Kuroo held strong, tanned forearm flexing under the rolled up sleeve of his red button down. His golden eyes scanned Kiyoomi’s face but the detective refused to tear his glare away from the figure in front of them. </p><p>“Oh, it is the fact that every decision has been your own that made you such a good choice, my child. By all means, you are more than welcome to try and fight me, Trickster,” the God of Control challenged, something like amusement coloring his staticked voice. “I’ll give you this one last chance—it’s the least I could do, since you were such an obedient player: If this future isn’t what you want, meet me at the top of the world. That is— if you can make it that far.”</p><p>The shadow swarmed right up to Kiyoomi, engulfing him as Yachi gasped.</p><p><em> I would love to see how far your flimsy pride takes you, but do not fret, child. I can still give you what you want, if </em> <b> <em>you </em> </b> <em> give in to me, too. </em></p><p>An image of a boy flickers across Kiyoomi’s shadow-clouded vision. Just quick enough for him to catch the way those brown eyes are smiling at <em> him, </em> and just fast enough to leave Kiyoomi strained and wanting more. </p><p>And then the shadow was gone, dispersing into nothingness, returning its stolen light back to this piece of the world. </p><p><em> You’ve got to be fucking kidding me </em>spun around in Kiyoomi’s brain, making his already sleep-deprived head swim dizzily. He lowered his gun, let his arm fall to his side, and simply stared into the space where the god’s incorporeal form had been. </p><p>Kiyoomi couldn’t have a single goddamn thing in his life, could he? He could barely even claim his own agency. It was so extremely frustrating. It was… </p><p>He doubled over, shoulders shaking.</p><p>“Sakusa-san?” Hinata asked, worried.</p><p>
  <em> It was fucking hilarious. </em>
</p><p>Kiyoomi threw his head back and cackled. Crazed, enraged, and chained down. That was all he was. That was all he’d ever been. And now he’d never be anything more.</p><p>
  <em> Okay. Alright. Fine. </em>
</p><p>So be it.</p><p>If the world was going to end, by his hand, so be it. </p><p>If he’d ruined things for himself, so be it.</p><p>If he hardly had this one last chance—that could barely be called a chance with how gigantic of an ultimatum it really was—to salvage himself from the deep pits of despair, <em> so fucking be it. </em></p><p>The so-called “God of Control” flashed Kiyoomi’s pride in his face like it was a bad thing, and maybe it was. But his huge pride was the reason he would never give in; that fake god didn’t know what Kiyoomi really wanted, if it teased him with that illusion.</p><p>He’d indulge himself in this one last thing, though. This one last fight to prove his free will. To prove that <em> he </em> was the best, that he’d be the winner at the end of it all, on his own terms.</p><p>Kiyoomi came back to himself bit by bit, pulling together the last shreds of his sanity. He inhaled, then exhaled long and slow, met Sakura-san’s tired gaze for a sparse moment, then turned with his chin raised. </p><p>It was long past two in the morning. He hadn’t slept in over twenty-four hours. But that was okay. There was only a little left, now.</p><p>Kiyoomi met Kuroo’s watchful look, sharp and diligent and knowing. The student council president gave him the barest of nods before turning towards his friends.</p><p>“So we’re going, right guys?” It was less of a question, more of a knowing assumption. As if Kuroo knew they all already agreed and just needed to hear himself speak.</p><p>Kiyoomi was surprised when Yachi was the first to nod.</p><p>Then Suna, hands clenched into tight fists, jerked his head once, silent fire burning in his eyes. Osamu jumped up on his shoulder, “Of course we are.”</p><p>“Let’s go show that guy that, Atsumu or not, we won’t give up,” Hinata agreed.</p><p>Ushijima nodded tersely.</p><p>Bokuto slapped Kuroo on the back, “Let’s do this. For Tsum-Tsum.”</p><p>“For Atsumu.” The raven nodded, and they began filing out Leblanc’s door.</p><p>Kiyoomi watched them go. Their heads were held high, like his, despite the conditions. Despite knowing. He watched them slog out into the street, watched them and their unshakeable resolution to fight once more. He sort of understood, now, why the Phantom Thieves had angered him so. They were so pure, so kind. They had all the things he wanted but didn’t take advantage of them. They just wanted to help people. Even if said people didn’t want their help.</p><p>The detective turned back to Sakura-san. The cafe owner looked sad, but nodded and waved Kiyoomi off. </p><p>“You go do what you have to do, kid.”</p><p>And they would. They will.</p><p>“Thank you, Sakura-san.” They were quiet words he’d never once spoken sincerely to anyone. “I’ll...” Kiyoomi cleared his throat but looked into those weary, worried brown eyes with a conviction he thought had died long ago. “I’ll fix this. Somehow.”</p><p>There was an unspoken promise tacked onto the end, but Kiyoomi thought the words would’ve died in his throat had he attempted to voice them. Sakura-san just nodded solemnly.</p><p>Kiyoomi never made promises; he found them flimsy and lame. But he clung to this like some ridiculous lifeline. Like if he believed it enough, it would come true.</p><p>He turned and strode through the entrance, the tinkling of the door bell ringing strange and out of place against a backdrop of red and black and fear and defeat. </p><p>Kiyoomi joined the rest of the Phantom Thieves and together, they made their way toward the center of everything. Toward the end.</p><hr/><p>If Kiyoomi knew they were walking into the biggest trap in all history, then he should have expected this. He really should have.</p><p>But it was so much worse than he imagined.</p><p>They were slow, sluggish, bogged down by terrible thoughts, and the shadows took advantage of that. In fact, it was like their enemies could control the fears plaguing them, drawing them out one by one, until they all gave in and fell.</p><p>But whenever one fell down, bowed their head, another stood up.</p><p>Suna crashed to his knees as their third Abaddon in a row landed a heavy Megaton Raid on the boy. The damage was too severe to do anything about, and Kiyoomi openly winced, but he had no healing or revitalization spells on him. Saving was never his thing. Only now did he regret that. </p><p>“Agneyastra!” “Samarecarm!”</p><p>Bokuto pushed off the ground, blood streaked across his face, and sprinted forward as Osamu lifted his head and Mercurius spun above him. Green light engulfed the downed boy, restoring him. Seiten Taisei surged forward and swung its studded pole just as Bokuto raised Mjolnir and together they landed a couple of hard hits on the disgusting slime monster in front of them.</p><p>Kiyoomi scowled and grit his teeth. He ran up and dragged the now-recuperating Suna back to where Ushijima was covering their flank, then turned and raised a hand. </p><p>“Kougaon!” </p><p>Light engulfed their foe before imploding and throwing the Abaddon backward with the force of the blast. The monster lay prone for a few seconds before jiggling upright again. It opened its obscenely large mouth and roared.</p><p>The detective swore. They were getting nowhere. They had barely made it past one Archangel; Uriel left them drained and feeling completely defeated as they lifted their heads and saw just how much ground they needed to traverse to reach the top.</p><p><em> No. </em> This wouldn’t do. He had plans.</p><p>Kiyoomi had a promise to keep.</p><p>The curly-haired boy ripped off his mask and screamed in rage, Loki’s own voice mixing into his. Robin Hood burst forward along with his dazzled Persona, and side by side, they attacked.</p><p>From the moment they began their ascent up the skeletal tower toward their goal, Kiyoomi had been met with surprise after surprise. </p><p>First, as the rest of the Phantom Thieves shimmered into their Metaverse attire at the bottom of the spiralling structure, Kiyoomi looked down at what he expected to be navy and blue stripes, but white and gold and red met his dark eyes. His head wasn’t covered in the familiar jagged helmet of his Black Mask ensemble either, but the tengu mask he hadn’t thought he’d see again. </p><p>
  <em> Now, what the hell…? </em>
</p><p>Then, when they encountered their first enemy, the gross, phallic creature Nara, the Persona name that jumped to his lips was none other than <em> Robin Hood</em>, and he was blasting out Bless skills instead of Curse ones. Kiyoomi didn’t really have time to complain, though; they had places to be, gods to beat.</p><p>But now, as he finally resolved to do <em> something, </em>to attempt to change the world from the awful reality it had become, to rip off his chains with his own two hands, to keep perhaps the only promise he’d ever made, Kiyoomi was shocked once more when things clicked into place inside of him.</p><p>In front of his very eyes, his two Persona attacked together, rained down arrows and sword slashes into the Abaddon, and then—they fused.</p><p>Warmth spread from Kiyoomi’s chest and stretched down his limbs to the very tips of his fingers and toes. A skill leapt out of his mouth before he even registered it.</p><p>“Rebellion Blade!”</p><p>Kiyoomi’s new Persona summoned a large, fiery blade—reminiscent of Loki’s but not quite the same—and stabbed it into the Abaddon, dusting the monster on the spot. </p><p>In the aftermath of their fight, Kiyoomi stood there, mouth slightly agape, blinking in confusion, before the dark Persona turned to him and knelt, large compound bow in hand. The Persona was clothed in tight-fitting black tactical gear, a large RH emblazoned in red on its chest, and its red eyes shone through the sleek, black metal of its armored head from which two slender bat wings thrust back like ears. </p><p>
  <em> Hereward the Wake will watch over you on your last crusade, child. This is all we could do to aid you. Best of luck. </em>
</p><p>An unknown, soft but sure male voice echoed in his head. Kiyoomi caught himself thinking it reminded him of his and Atsumu’s late night chess games or their constant back-and-forth as they played billiards and the blonde boy no longer had to keep up his pretense as the cocky class clown that Miya Atsumu was.</p><p>Hereward nodded once to Kiyoomi and faded into the darkness. </p><p>The detective clenched his fist and turned, striding over to where Kuroo was struggling to his feet. Kiyoomi held out his hand.</p><p>Kuroo looked up in surprise, then took the hand with a crooked grin. Kiyoomi pulled the other up, and they faced the rest of the Thieves. They were all battered and winded, weighed down by sleep deprivation’s signature heaviness, but still, they stood.</p><p>The people below were chanting against them, the stakes weren’t in their favor at all, but still, they stood.</p><p>They stood and they fought.</p><p>“Let’s go.”</p><p>The Phantom Thieves pushed forward, up the spindly, winding paths that labyrinthed and twisted into empty air, high above the clouds, high above the people who scorned them that they were still so desperate to save. The Phantom Thieves surged on with the kind of confidence that made Kiyoomi wonder if he and Haruichi had completely misjudged them when Kiyoomi said they had no backbone without their leader. </p><p>He could see it now, in the fire that burned in their eyes despite the way their limbs ached and the increasing frustration at Rafael as the Angel kept debuffing them and dodging their attacks. They were still mourning the loss of their friend, but they staggered forward, determined to protect his name, to not let his death go in vain.</p><p>Rafael charged up, giving them an opening, and Kiyoomi and Kuroo yelled, in unison, “Now!”</p><p>“Masakunda!” Osamu debuffed their enemy with a flourish of his tail.</p><p>Hinata jumped forward, unleashing a spray of bullets from his machine gun as his Persona rained down a storm of meteors onto the Archangel. </p><p>Ushijima swept Usumidori at the shadow, slicing sideways once, twice, three times, while Kamu Susano-o raged above him. </p><p>Yachi scrambled between buffing and healing them as they landed hit after hit on the angel. </p><p>Bokuto whooped and unleashed a thunderstorm, holding Mjolnir high above him as if the hammer was the reason for his Ziodyne and not the spiked monkey Persona above him. </p><p>Suna ran up behind Kuroo, who clasped his hands together as the heir to the Suna empire stepped into his hold and was launched up and over their party, “One Shot Kill!” </p><p>Kuroo then unleashed a powered-up Atomic Flare without even turning around, a wicked grin piercing his battle-worn features.</p><p>A chorus of boos filtered up through the haze from the people below that Kiyoomi was sure the God of Control amplified, to try and throw them off, but it was too late. He raised his hand.</p><p>“Eigaon!”</p><p>Kiyoomi’s curse spell hit, engulfing Rafael in dark flames as the angel shrieked and fell to the sticky, fleshy ground below. The Phantom Thieves jumped back, waiting for the archangel’s next move, weapons bared.</p><p>Rafael fell, shattered into shadowy scraps, and they took a second to rest.</p><p>The rest of the Thieves panted around him, murmuring small healing spells here and there with the little strength they could manage. Kiyoomi chanced this moment to lean over the side of the structure they’d climbed. </p><p>They towered high above the famed Shibuya Crossing, and what he could see of the pavement below was dotted with people. They were either going about their business and paying no attention to the Phantom Thieves fighting, or stopped to speak their discontent that someone was trying to change their future from the one they were barrelling towards. People were disappearing left and right, bursting into clouds of black dust, but barely anyone noticed—those who did screamed in panic, running to the nearest person and shouting of what they witnessed, but soon even they forgot about their worries, blending back in with the crowds of Tokyo waking up and going to work. </p><p>Every now and then, Kiyoomi would hear a thought about how life was better off under Haruichi’s lead and the Phantom Thieves were criminals to try and take their happiness away from them. Or he’d catch wind of someone talking about the Phantom Thieves as an urban myth, a group of kids who made up a story to make themselves feel better. The latter was even worse than hearing his father praised. Such a perception from the public spelled the end of them, Kiyoomi feared. They had to keep going; if they didn’t hurry, things were only going to get worse.</p><p>Once they had their breather, Kiyoomi led them upwards, trudging across the gross, mushy ground that both clung to their boots in effort to stop them and actively tried to push them back, to toss them off the narrow walkways. </p><p>After what seemed like a lifetime, they finally reached the end of the strange skeletal structure and faced the mix between a colosseum and a tower that surely housed their final opponent. Kiyoomi scanned the scratched and bloodied faces of his allies, looking for an admission of loss that he knew he wouldn’t find. Kuroo set a hand on his shoulder and nodded.</p><p>“Come on,” Kuroo waved a hand over his shoulder and took off across the black and red pulsing blocks that bridged the gap between the bone tower and Yaldabaoth’s arena.</p><p>The Phantom Thieves entered the Holy Grail Temple, not knowing what to expect, ready for anything, but they certainly didn’t expect to encounter a giant, bejeweled cup.</p><p>Laughter echoed off the tall, caged walls around them, “Well done, my petty little thieves. Color me impressed.” </p><p>“Oh come on, have a little faith in us, your Godliness,” Kuroo taunted back, shoulders rolled back and rooster head held high as if he weren’t completely spent from the mini boss rush on the way here. </p><p>“Show yourself, you coward.” Kiyoomi called, anger burning anew. </p><p>More laughter. This time, thousands of other voices joined in. The bars of the walls around them rattled as people, <em> caged </em> people, laughed at the Phantom Thieves. They scorned them and banged on their cells shouting that the Phantom Thieves were useless, their justice was unnecessary, they were trying to save a people who were perfectly happy mulling around mindlessly. </p><p>“The people have spoken!” triumphed the God of Control from somewhere in the chaotic midst. </p><p>Hinata stepped forward, “That’s not true! You’re making this up! It’s not <em> real!</em>”</p><p>“You’re just hiding behind them, not letting your true motives be known!” Osamu joined in, scampering to the front of the group. “There’s no way society wants the world to end!”</p><p>“Ah, I told you: the public knows what they want.”</p><p>
  <em> Bang! </em>
</p><p>Kiyoomi raised his raygun up in the air, “I’m sick of listening to you and your distorted perceptions of the world. This place is ours, now show yourself or get out.”</p><p>The giant cup in front of them glowed golden.</p><p>“You are mistaken, Trickster. What do you think I exist for?” </p><p>Kiyoomi frowned, “What are you—”</p><p>“So this <em> is </em> the Holy Grail, then,” Osamu interrupted, rushing forward. “You’re saying that the treasure of Mementos, the heart of the public, <em> this cup, </em> is a <em> god? </em>”</p><p>“Holy Grail? Like the biblical cup of Jesus?” Ushijima murmured, clutching his sword tighter.</p><p>The God of Control cackled once more, “You claim you are fighting for freedom, children, but do you know what freedom the world truly desires?”</p><p>“The only freedom we know is the one where we get to choose what we want! No one should take that away from us,” Hinata shouted.</p><p>“The freedom to not choose…” the God continued, Holy Grail blazing in front of them. “The freedom to not think…” </p><p>“No way…” Kuroo gasped.</p><p>“Isn’t the ultimate freedom being freed from your burdens completely?”</p><p>Kiyoomi flinched. </p><p>He understood, now, why it had been so difficult to make it this far. They’d been fighting against the whole of the public, the entire world, who’d grown tired of slogging through each and every day unsatisfied and weighed down by society’s expectations. They were fighting to save a public who’d given up, given in to the sweet, sweet release that would be letting someone take the reigns and control them. It was something he also understood, a feeling Kiyoomi knew all too well after years of struggling to reach higher, to break free of the things that chained him down.</p><p>It was an idea he’d entertained a few times, when the fake smiles weighed too heavy on his face, when all he wanted to do was snap angrily instead of politely handling his interactions with the media, with his fans. Kiyoomi tossed around the idea of giving in, but it was always filled with scorn and sarcasm. He knew he couldn’t afford such a release; he’d been born into a pile of suffering that he would do everything to escape. Even if it meant tearing down the world to get there.</p><p>But he was past that, and with society bowing their heads below them, Kiyoomi grit his teeth. </p><p>“So society made a god out of you wishing for something as stupid as an easy life? How laughable.” He smirked, but there was only anger in his onyx eyes. “It’s too bad I’m not going to allow such selfish fools to rest so easily.”</p><p>Kiyoomi tore his mask from his face, summoning Hereward with a sinister sneer. “Life is nothing but hardships. It’s high time the public realizes that the only escape from life is the path you carve out for yourself.”</p><p>The Holy Grail hummed, the booing from their audience grew louder, but the Phantom Thieves faced it all head on.</p><p>The fight that ensued was exhausting, painful, and seemingly unending. </p><p>After a few rounds of throwing attacks at the glimmering cup and having it constantly heal just when they thought they got a leg up, Kiyoomi let out an enraged yell. </p><p>
  <em> “Brave Blade!” </em>
</p><p>Loki flashed in front of him for an instant, shrouding Kiyoomi in the red haze of his blade as he swung it down, slashing into the Holy Grail. For that split second, Kiyoomi’s anger transcended space and time and brought forth the spirit of his rebellion for one massive attack, his black eyes blazing in time with the red flames surrounding him.</p><p>Kuroo whipped around at the desperate hit, grinned a bit crazily, and called down a hail of bombs. “Anat! Atomic Flare!”</p><p>“One Shot Kill!” Suna raised a hand from his knees on the ground, ordering Astarte forward.</p><p>Ushijima ended the powerful combo with Kamu Susano’o’s heavy physical hit, “Myriad Slashes!”</p><p>Kiyoomi looked up, panting, hoping to find some sort of damage, but the Holy Grail glinted the same as ever. Once more, the red vessels leading to the cup pumped in life to the depths of Mementos here above the clouds, into itself: <em> Another full heal. </em></p><p>Bokuto swore behind him. Suna groaned from his place on the ground.</p><p>“If we don’t do something about those weird, blood-pumping roots, we’ll never win!” Yachi shouted from the back. She furiously tapped away at her keyboards, searching for an out. There had to be one. The Holy Grail wasn’t a real god. There had to be a weakness.</p><p>“Can someone go try to cut them? We’ll need to keep attacking the Holy Grail to distract it, too. What’s-its-face will know something’s up if we don’t.”</p><p>Gritting his teeth, Kiyoomi nodded.</p><p>“So—” Hinata started.</p><p>“I’ll go.” Suna pushed himself up. “I’ve got this.”</p><p>“But you’re hurt!” the redhead protested.</p><p>“Then heal me, dumbass.”</p><p>Hinata pouted, but cast Diarahan on the brown-haired boy dutifully.</p><p>With that, Suna ran off and Hinata took his place. The shorter boy looked to each of his comrades and nodded, facing the golden cup in front of them just as it cast Light Edge and a laser drilled down at them. The vanguard jumped to dodge, but only Hinata was successful, as quick on his feet as usual. The others grunted in pain and stood strong.</p><p>“We should conserve our strength,” Kiyoomi muttered lowly, just loud enough for the others to hear him.</p><p>Kuroo nodded and rolled his neck. Hefting his iron-clad fists up, he grinned, lazy and chaotic, “Let’s get ‘em boys.”</p><p>Ushijima jerked his head once and disappeared, quick despite his size. The artist dashed forward and jumped, reappearing in front of the Holy Grail. Unsheathing his long katana, Ushijima slashed once, twice, three times, and flipped back, landing lightly on his feet.</p><p>Kuroo then ran forward, long scarf trailing behind him, and swung fast and sharp with his right hand, then left, then spun and slammed his spiked heel into their enemy. All that boxing training Kiyoomi knew the third-year practiced was finally being put to good work.</p><p>As the dark-haired boy was retreating, Kiyoomi drew his sword. It glowed a harsh blue in the dim lighting and reflected off the sides of the massive golden cup. He rushed up, curls bouncing as he snarled and cut across once, lightsabre flashing, then brought the blade back, dragging it hard into the surface of the Grail. He jumped back and shot two, precise rays into the jewels adorning the sides.</p><p>Hinata took this moment to pull out his own gun, laying a whole clip into the side of the Holy Grail with a high-pitched shriek-laugh.</p><p>They were prepared when the cup attacked them this time, a sharp Diffraction Arrow, so a few more were able to avoid the heavy almighty damage. Immediately afterwards, they sprang into action, collectively crossing their fingers and sending Suna all the luck they could scrape together that their attacks were enough to keep their teammate unnoticed.</p><p>The four of them landed another round of solid, physical hits and the Grail, another Diffraction Arrow. Kiyoomi grimaced, feeling the full brunt of the attack deep in his bones as the cup laughed at their woes.</p><p>“The masses that praise the Holy Grail, that want this reality, are <em> infinite. </em> Their belief and power thereby makes me immortal!”</p><p>“Sorry, not happenin’,” Suna shouted back, leaping up onto one of the golden hand statues next to the Grail. The fox-eyed boy smirked and jumped forward, swinging his huge ax and, in one fell swoop, sliced through the red roots leading into the giant chalice. They fell away, crumbling into black dust and disappearing as Suna flipped backwards and landed behind Hinata.</p><p>“Impossible! I am no longer connected to the inmates,” boomed the god’s voice.</p><p>“This is it, guys! Take that sucker out!” Yachi shouted, boosting them up.</p><p>“Try as you may,” the Grail hummed, “it shall not work. A ragtag group of kids pretending to be thieves cannot best me.” </p><p>“We’ll see about that,” Osamu grinned, healing them up from the back.</p><p>Bokuto sprinted forward before anyone could move, howling out, “God’s Hand!” Both Hinata and Suna jumped back as Seiten Taisei swung its massive, spiked staff hard into the Holy Grail. The grey-haired boy grinned. “We ain’t pretending, dude. We <em> are </em> the Phantom Thieves.”</p><p>Kiyoomi narrowed his eyes and raised his left hand, “Hereward! Rebellion Blade!” </p><p>“Brave Blade!” Ushijima summoned Kamu Susano’o and his Persona slashed his twisted sword across just as Hereward’s red one stabbed into the cup in front of them. </p><p>Kuroo leapt up and swung his brass knuckled-clad fists again. The Grail retaliated with a Light Edge, but their party successfully avoided it. The God of Control scoffed, the sound echoing off the high walls of cells around them. Their audience continued to throw out complaints and scorn but it didn’t matter. They knew what they had to do. </p><p>Their onslaught continued, broken up by turns where they hunkered down and guarded from the colossal damage of Eternal Light after neglecting to pay attention enough that they were almost wiped out the first time the Holy Grail shot that concentrated laser at them.</p><p>The Phantom Thieves kept standing back up, kept fighting on, and it made Kiyoomi a bit sick to witness. Even though he was fighting too, even though he was also determined to not lose, it felt like they were fighting for very different things. Like the gap between him and the Phantom Thieves, between him and Miya Atsumu’s legacy, was widening exponentially even after his death.</p><p>The Phantom Thieves wanted the world to keep their free will, to always be free to do whatever they wanted, and Kiyoomi… Kiyoomi just wanted to prove that he wasn’t who they said he was. He wasn’t his father’s hitman, he wasn’t the God of Control’s player, he was Sakusa Kiyoomi, ace detective. He was fierce and smart and hungry for success, though his desires had long been shadowed by the burning ache of revenge. </p><p>If he was chasing the ghost of a dream, well, no one needed to know. Although he relished shooting Miya Atsumu’s stupid, handsome face, something about it didn’t sit right with him. </p><p>Kiyoomi originally figured the discontent was due to Atsumu being unlike any of his other targets: young, still a teenaged boy with his whole future ahead of him, and without any of the greed or corruption that any of Haruichi’s enemies bathed in on the daily. If Kiyoomi’s other targets were villains, then Atsumu was a shining hero. A worthy rival. </p><p>Kiyoomi hated it. </p><p>But Kiyoomi realized all too late it wasn’t just the matter of morals, it was something else. Something he refused to think about until he saw the look in Sakura-san’s eyes when he was dragged into Leblanc hours ago. Until the guardian of his greatest enemy had stood his ground and talked Kiyoomi’s killer away, until he made that stupid, unasked-for promise to fix things. Kiyoomi didn’t know how he was going to do that, but he figured saving the world from brainless devotion to a stupid cup with a god complex was the first step.</p><p>Hinata landed the last hit on the Holy Grail, and they all lifted their heads.</p><p>“We did it right?” Bokuto panted, leaning on his knees a bit. “Oracle?”</p><p>Yachi edged closer, peering through her red goggles, “It’s silent now, but… I don’t know…” </p><p>Kiyoomi held his breath, eyes searching the space around them, wondering if it was okay to hope.</p><p>Then, the whole building began to shake. Light blue lines flared up the sides of the walls and then flashed red; the golden cup began to spin in front of them. They watched on in horror as the wings engraved into the Holy Grail spun and spun until they broke free of their constraints and fanned out, revealing a silver, metal prismatic structure. The walls fell down around them, pulling back the ceiling and spreading out the floor as the Grail rose from its place like a bird hatching from an egg.</p><p>High in the air, above even the clouds, their small piece of floor rumbled back and as the Holy Grail rose, the rising sun reflected off the silver metal of the beast in front of them.</p><p>“Is this… The Holy Grail in all its entirety?” Ushijima murmured.</p><p>“No way…” gasped Osamu. “This is bad. Real bad.”</p><p>“Is that even real?” Hinata gaped.</p><p>The true form of the Grail, in all its glory, resembled a giant silver robot with all its sharp edges and inhuman scaling of its limbs. Its head, with a silver visor piece, was tiny in comparison to the rest of its body. The torso triangulated sharply from its shoulders into the sharp point of its waist, and then flared out again in fragments, each wider than the last, to the long attachments that served as its legs. </p><p>The two golden hand statues that once decorated the room of the Temple next to the golden goblet that the Holy Grail used to be, now connected to long, silver arms, spreading out before them. Giant, metal wings unfurled and extended out behind the beast, mimicking those of an angel. They were silver and golden and mechanical, but shrouded in the same blood-red as Mementos’ main color palette. Attached at the hip of the massive metal angel were two large silver containers sort of resembling missile launchers. They consisted of five hexagonal cylinders connected like a piece of silver honeycomb and looked like they would have weighed the figure down, had it not been floating, unphased, above the clouds before them.</p><p>This was the true Holy Grail. </p><p>“The public knows what it wants,” the giant figure boomed. “You cannot win against Yaldabaoth, the administrator of this world. I am the result of their collective desires; you are unwanted. You do not exist to them!”</p><p>Osamu stepped forward, “I’m tired of this. You say you’re what the public really wants, but why would they want their world to fall to ruin? Do we count for nothing? Do the other good people out there doing their best and working hard to change the world count for <em> nothing?” </em></p><p>Yaldabaoth chuckled, but Osamu pressed onward.</p><p>“You insist that we don’t exist, yet here we are, fighting against you with everything we’ve got. You say the public gave in to you, but <em> I’m </em> here. I’m here, and my existence proves that you’re wrong!”</p><p>Suna gaped at the fox, “Wait, Samu, did you…?”</p><p>The fox continues, brandishing his slingshot, “We’ll never back down. You can laugh at us, mock us, and throw your strongest attacks our way, but we’ll never let you have this world. The future is ours, and if you think we won’t do everything we can to protect it, you’re dead wrong.”</p><p>“Samu’s right!” Bokuto puffed his chest out and pointed a large hand at their mechanical foe. “We’re going to take you down!”</p><p>The rest of the Thieves straighten, nodding their agreement, and Yaldabaoth towered over them, obviously displeased.</p><p>“Those who dare defy the order I have set shall be met with punishment raining down from the heavens!” the god roared, the force of its scream pushing them back.</p><p>Kiyoomi stood his ground, drawing his sword without a glance back. “This is the real fight, now. Don’t drag me down.”</p><p>“Wouldn’t dream of it, Crow,” Kuroo rolled his shoulders with a lopsided smirk. “Let’s do this, guys!”</p><p>“Rebels who dare defy my rule… You shall perish!”</p><p>“We’ll see about that.” Kiyoomi tore his mask off, “Laevateinn!”</p><p>“Blazing Hell!”</p><p>“Atomic Flare!”</p><p>“Ziodyne!”</p><p>“No notable weakness, a-as you’d expect from a god, so just keep up the damage!” Yachi shouted from behind them. “I’ll do my best to support you!”</p><p>“You have no means of escape, children.” Yaldabaoth called, “The insanity of mankind will bring them to their knees and, you, along with them.”</p><p>The god pulled another crane-like, jointed arm out from behind its back and reached down to one of the hexagons on its hips, pulling a large golden gun from the compartment.</p><p>“I release upon you the deadly sin of lust!” </p><p>The giant metal angel aimed and fired at Hinata, who wavered, unable to avoid the frontal attack, eyes lighting up dizzily as he giggled.</p><p>“Uh… King’s been inflicted with… l-lust?” Yachi stammered.</p><p>“We don’t have time to deal with this,” Kiyoomi hissed. “Hereward! Eigaon!” He aimed his curse attack at the arm holding the gun, hoping it could be targeted. The dark-haired boy had no desire for Yaldabaoth to get a leg up on them with whatever real damage these summoned tools might do to their party. His skill hit, but barely knocked off an eighth of the thing’s health. Kiyoomi bit back a swear.</p><p>“Aim for the gun,” Kuroo yelled, voice hoarse but steady. “We don’t need another one of us out of commission.”</p><p>And so they did. The gun turned out to be resistant to wind, but that wasn’t much of a problem. Hinata’s status ailment wasn’t either—it wore off after a couple turns. What <em> was </em>a problem, however, was that no matter how much they concentrated their fire on the arms Yaldabaoth summoned, he’d just manifest them again. There were four of them: a gun, a bell, a sword, and a book. Each had a unique status ailment based on the seven deadly sins and reflected different types of attacks, but could be taken out with just a couple strong attacks. Yachi did her best to guide them through different strategies, but it felt like they were getting nowhere. </p><p>Halfway through, frustration crept up on Kiyoomi, and he switched tactics on his own. He ruthlessly targeted Yaldabaoth again and again with Laevateinns and Brave Blades because he couldn’t be bothered to care about the status of his temporary teammates. </p><p>Kiyoomi dodged a lot of the attacks, relying on his supports to heal him while he barrelled forward, uncaring of his health or waning strength. He just wanted this to be over. He just wanted to win already. Kiyoomi had to wait for the rest of his party to attack before he could go again, and it was starting to get on his nerves how they wasted hit after hit just for Yaldabaoth to summon another arm, another item, another target to slow them down. </p><p>Then, Yachi cried out.</p><p>“Skull!”</p><p>Kiyoomi turned, too slow, and watched Bokuto stagger to his knees, clutching his arm to his chest. The dark-haired boy squinted, confused; Bokuto hadn’t even been in the front line—he’d switched out to heal up. Kiyoomi was about to spit out a cold <em> What now? </em> But then he saw.</p><p>The white-gray-haired boy’s hand was… fading.</p><p>You could see right through it to Bokuto’s black jacket as he held his arm out in front of him and stared in disbelief.</p><p>And suddenly, Kiyoomi<em> heard. </em></p><p>He heard the voices of the people below them, heard the whole world rewrite the story of the last twelve months of their lives. </p><p>
  <em> The Phantom Thieves? What are you talking about? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I’ve never heard of them. What, are they a new book or movie coming out? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I don’t have time for this; can’t you see I’m busy? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Life is so much better like this— I don’t have to do anything myself. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Oh, I know! It’s like you’re sitting passenger in your own body; it’s so nice! </em>
</p><p>The world had accepted their fate, and somewhere in the midst of that, echoing in the shadows, was Kiyoomi’s own voice.</p><p>
  <em> If they just weren’t here, I could be so much farther ahead! They’re just cannon fodder characters; I don’t need them. They’re just absorbing damage; useless! Completely useless! </em>
</p><p>Kiyoomi spun, horrified, but it was too late.</p><p>He watched as the Phantom Thieves faded, mouths agape in silent screams and eyes wide with fear as they watched their friends and comrades burst into clouds of grey, dissipating within seconds, lost to an invisible wind that carried away Kiyoomi’s only allies, his only hope. They disappeared one by one, fated by the very people they fought to protect to the confines of a joke, a page in a story long lost to the shadows of time, a fleeting dream just out of grasp as morning dawned. Gone forever without a trace of a memory.</p><p>But Kiyoomi remembered. He knew they existed.</p><p>
  <em> He knew. </em>
</p><p>But it wasn’t enough.</p><p>He’d been the last straw, and just like the rest of the world, he’d given up on them.</p><p>As Kiyoomi was left alone, high in the sky above Tokyo, Yaldabaoth rumbled, spreading his many arms in front of him. </p><p>“Do you still want to fight? Shall I take this as your defeat, Trickster?”</p><p>Kiyoomi sucked in ragged breath after ragged breath, eyes lighting up in fury, dark shadows swirled around him, engulfing him. His Black Mask outfit materialized around him as he roared in anger.</p><p>“Shut up. SHUT UP. <em> SHUT UP!!” </em></p><p>Hereward raged out of control, attacking on its own with only Kiyoomi’s crazed thoughts to guide him. The Persona flung flaming arrows into Yaldabaoth’s shining torso, cut at the metal of the huge knock-off angel with his sword, and cried out, mimicking Kiyoomi’s own screams.</p><p>“I don’t want to hear it! I don’t want to hear that from <em> YOU!” </em> he seethed. “YOU dragged me into this mess. YOU screwed up my whole life. YOU sentenced me to this hell. And all because of some stupid, meta game! A game you sabotaged from the beginning, a game you knew you’d win! And now you’re LAUGHING as I struggle? As <em> we </em> struggle? I have had <em> enough!” </em></p><p>“I will <em> never </em> stop fighting you,” Kiyoomi glared through the red eyes of his helmet. Clutching his sword tightly, he jumped at the giant, angel, intent on doing <em> something, </em> though he had yet to figure out what his next action was. All he saw was red. All he knew was red. And he was tired of it.</p><p>“I will never give in! I will never bow to you, you worthless <em> coward </em> . You don’t get to control me. NO ONE DOES! I am ME! I do what I want! You’re a god? Then it’ll be worth even more when <em> I KILL YOU! </em>”</p><p>He attacked and attacked, losing all sense of time or feeling, just knew that his arms were still moving, his Persona was still landing hit after hit above him. </p><p>Kiyoomi attacked until he could no longer, and then he fell.</p><p>Kiyoomi fell, toppling down in front of Yaldabaoth’s tacky, robotic figure into the clouds. And below the clouds, air still tainted by the sick, bloody rain of Mementos greeted him in his freefall. Like the laws of physics remembered their roles in an instant, Kiyoomi fell to the ground with nothing to stop him from entertaining the dark, demented idea of slamming into the Shibuya pavement at long last.</p><p>But even as he screwed his eyes shut and waited for the pavement of Shibuya’s business district to rush up to meet his lifeless body, Kiyoomi knew he wouldn’t be granted such easy relief. Sakura-san’s words haunted him even now, when it was all over and Kiyoomi could do nothing more to fix things. When he’d run out of options and strength to see through the rage and rebellion that had always dwelled within him. He wouldn’t give in to Yaldabaoth, but he couldn’t continue on this path, couldn’t bring back what he’d lost.</p><p>Holding true to Kiyoomi’s inference, Yaldabaoth rumbled in his head, “As thanks for your continued patronage, Trickster, I shall show you just how wonderful a world without will is. How freeing it is to let go, to give in to what the world wants. Maybe then, you will come to your senses.” And then, even the God of Control itself faded away, leaving Kiyoomi in a terrible, lonely silence.</p><p>He blinked and suddenly the world was before him. </p><p>Kiyoomi opened his eyes and he was standing in the middle of a crowd. Invisible to the people walking by him, going about their business as though pulled back and forth by marionette strings, eyes blank and soulless, relaxed smiles on their faces. Kiyoomi turned, unable to bear looking at those empty, unbalanced smiles. He tried to close his eyes and call for Loki, Robin Hood, Hereward, desperate for the first time in his life to hear the voices of his Persona, but was met with only quiet solitude. </p><p>He couldn’t look away, probably Yaldabaoth’s doing, so he watched on in despair as his own person went about life as normal. Kiyoomi watched himself live his life without choices—an easy, happy life, one he never imagined for himself—as the days faded into nights, weeks into months into years. </p><p>Kiyoomi watched as all life drained from the populace into the waiting glass of the God of Control. People were enjoying this; he heard their voices from time to time, soft and content, as if drunk on the idea of not having to make their own decisions. It made him so angry. </p><p>Kiyoomi was furious, an angry stranger in his own skin. This isn’t what he wanted.</p><p>He was manipulative and loved the decrepit satisfaction that came with forcing others’ hands in the exact way he wanted them to, but where was the fun or satisfaction if they went along with it, if they <em> wanted </em> it? No, he never wanted to <em> control </em>reality like Yaldabaoth.</p><p>Haruichi was greedy trash and he deserved the long fall from the grace Kiyoomi painstakingly placed him upon. His father deserved having everything taken away from him, just as he was about to grasp them. The ultimate defeat. Kiyoomi wanted that.</p><p>Miya Atsumu was… complicated. He had gotten in Kiyoomi’s way and paid for it. He’d given Kiyoomi feelings that the ace detective couldn’t comprehend. Miya Atsumu made his already hard life harder by becoming a source of joy. His wicked grins and teasing became something Kiyoomi anticipated and even, sinfully, longed for. He was a rival that drove Kiyoomi farther, spurred him to reach higher, lit his heart ablaze with the need to<em> be better than Miya Atsumu. </em> </p><p>Kiyoomi wanted Atsumu, and since his revenge plot deemed that Kiyoomi couldn’t have him, no one could. </p><p>After destroying Haruichi, Kiyoomi just wanted to disappear and live his life normally. He was even willing to discard his name and fame as Japan’s Detective Prince for a normal life. Maybe he’d build himself another pedestal of popularity in college, or finally be able to make a few real friends without the sins of his past weighing him down. He just wanted to be <em> wanted</em>, respected and loved—even if it was by a couple people. </p><p>Yes, Kiyoomi wanted to be the <em> best</em>, like any child longed to be a hero, longed for one of those beautiful moments from the stories of his childhood where knights rushed in at the last second and saved the day. But, maybe more importantly, Kiyoomi wanted to be past his revenge. It was satisfying on the tongue but burned to swallow, dry and prickly as if to prove some ridiculous, metaphorical point. It sucked the life out of a boy who hadn’t much to begin with, and Kiyoomi wanted nothing more than to be past this point in his life.</p><p>But Yaldabaoth exposed Kiyoomi’s true role. Whittled him down until he was just a piece in a game, a power-hungry challenger meant only to oppose Miya Atsumu’s kind justice. The god reminded Kiyoomi that he wasn’t the main character, just a lousy antagonist for the true protagonist to overcome, to beat. He wasn’t a hero, he’d never have his shining moment. He was just an obstacle; Kiyoomi could never win. He was destined to lose.</p><p>And lose, he did. From the second Kiyoomi pulled the trigger in Miya Atsumu’s face, from the very moment he tasted victory for the first time, everything had already fallen apart. Everything he wanted was already far out of his reach.</p><p>He couldn’t destroy his father - all those years of hard work fell to waste.</p><p>He wasn’t better than Miya Atsumu - Kiyoomi couldn’t save the world in the younger boy’s place; he couldn’t become the protagonist even in the end.</p><p>Yaldabaoth claimed true victory over all of them, and Kiyoomi couldn’t even keep fighting like he wanted to.</p><p>No, now, all he could do was watch the world bow at the God of Control’s feet, himself included. The world was tranquil and delighted that someone else was directing them, waving their arms like the conductor of a demented orchestra. Every swish and flick of Yaldabaoth’s wrist, a decision that the public would never have to make again. </p><p>This wasn’t what he wanted. </p><p>Kiyoomi had lost like he never imagined he would. It tore into him as his eyes refused to close; even as years ran by him, Kiyoomi remained stationary, alone and fated to drown in this loss.</p><p>He watched the boy of his dreams fade away until he never existed. He watched the only people who knew his pain and power turn to dust as they were written out of reality, too. He watched as he, his true self, was caged in yet again, held down by new shackles as his body smiled and went to university, married, raised a family. </p><p>He watched as the world moved on, unknowing, <em> never knowing</em>, of the pain and blood and tears that the Phantom Thieves had shed for them. That Kiyoomi had shed for them. </p><p>Kiyoomi fell to his knees in the middle of the Shibuya Crossing inside of him where he was trapped, cars and people blazed past him, moving on, but he couldn’t, he refused. Even as he saw Yaldabaoth’s world, even as he lived out his role, his dark eyes were unseeing. He ducked his head and tore his fingers into his curls, trying to shake away the remnants of the world that continuously flashed behind his eyelids, torturing him forevermore. But it was useless. Time marched on to Yaldabaoth’s tune. Only Kiyoomi knew it wasn’t right. </p><p>Somewhere inside of him, a harsh, broken cry tore out of his chest, scraping its sharp nails along the inside of his throat. But it was silenced before it reached his lips because, in the end, he didn’t even get to play his own role.</p><p>He’d lost.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hello hello friends! thank you for reading!</p><p>first off: i absolutely despised trying to describe yaldabaoth's final form so if you're confused with the picture i gave up painting... just google it.</p><p>second... there are soooo many things i allude to in this sucker... that will make sense. i swear. just... not yet. you'll see. i have a lot of plans for the good end.</p><p>(i know i said i didn't use real game strategies, but straight up, the last boss fight... taken straight from my first crack at trying to beat yaldabaoth... i completely focused on trying to get rid of the arms and shit and just... died very quickly. after which i gave up and looked up a guide that went "you can just kinda ignore them" so i switched to using aoe skills and did much better.)</p><p>as for the good end, well, maybe by july. or later. i'm about to be really busy life-wise and will be taking a short hiatus from writing (more so from actually posting... i'm pretty sure i won't be able to escape the occasional hq brainrot), so please bear with me. i have LOTS of plans for that piece and i have a feeling it's going to be huge. and... maybe i'll even be able to do the actual "/" relationship tag *waggles eyebrows*</p></blockquote></div></div>
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